sexta-feira, 11 de abril de 2014

My old friend


Loneliness became my friend.
We ride together in the streets full of people.
But sometimes I want to scream: I don’t want to be alone.
Loneliness became my friend. 

We go to many places, we’re almost inseparables.
By the bars and restaurants, there we are hands held.
To show the pretty girls a melancholic smile.
And alone at night, there is a modest weep in my dark room.



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