¿Será o no? Para nosotros.

Camino con miedo por Villa du Clos de Malevart. Vivo allí. Y así conozco sus calles con miedo y no sólo eso St. Michel, Cluny, Madeleine y allí.
Y es que se trata del desencanto de la que amé, que ahora se desmorona, que no permite la ayuda de quien alguna vez pudo crecer. Tarareo mientras la gente se cae a mi alrededr, se agarra del primero y blasfemo del segundo. Para ellos, la ayuda les ayuda, si no es como viven, para nosotros es la ayuda su contrario.
Por ahora guardo silencio, para que no escape lo óptimo que podría ser este lugar. Na, na, na y así es que sigue la canción.
Discúlpame Francia, pero has perdido una forma de ser. Disculpa pero ya no eres mi favorita. Adieu.

Don't you worry, I still love you.

The extension of my domain expands as my world collapses in three tears, as my body shakes, I think about those days and then I enter with certain uncertitude. There I get the world of depression. It is just for today, as I had my drug. The Argentinian one.
Wellcome down to the new lane, of the pictures that don’t allow you to see each pixel. I introduce you to my companion which is sporadically in there. Silence (3 seconds). What makes you different from me, as you extend your wings for me in your far deep eyes. I do believe in myself. What do you know if it is important to look at your transparent soul? It is. There I believe I have been a saint, with immaculate thoughts that converge in each of your movements, which may not be in order. There is the contradiction. Bitter, bitter as I drug myself. Welcome… you have just arrived. I will teach you how to be a sinner, with desires that will target to persuade you into good luck tasks.
I will be free, but as I convince you to cash me up, please don’t bother me. You made me feel sad and poor and dirty and inhuman. No!! Never underestimate me and my powers cause I would have taught you how to denounce a girl under a boat, a sin in heaven, a necessity of a saint, the soccer of my mind. I knew how to play. My veins run with exhasperation as I, me, myself and his friend run trough the mountain with desperation, which causes me a armoring desperation and inhalation. I made a fool of you, and then I breathe. Deep.