Souls souls or just souls i'd like to be part of a stolen photoi'd like to be the charming stranger in somebody's dreamturn myself in the mirror and see the person I desire instead of mei'd want endless sunny days and i'd want Time to splitup over and over again in pleasure parts I could taste uninterruptedlyhear me breathing sometimes,there's a melody into body sound, and it's singing in a low voiceand it's smiling with its eyes, and it's never tiredi'd like to be someone's wrong ideal,love at first sight that upset you, and you won't forget it anymorebecause you will never have the nerve to abet iti'd like to feed on just drinking faces and expressionsand reading some redness on a forbidden pleasure facesnail and insatiable lizard and night-perversion every other dayand rather than symbiosis, an avowed parasitismmutual and cannibal between brain and instinctit's cruel games in declared anguish of lifea voluptuous regreta boring happy memorya not declared pleasure restrained under bedspread for shamean organic taste too much easy to rememberbut vaguely indecent to declareforgiveness for bad actions that will comeforgiveness for the memory I already have about myselfit's easy to close the eyes and it's painful to openthem back again on account of too much lightand more, i'd like to be the simple joy in someonewho sees a forsaken toy and he's afraid and he'sdesiring to appropriatei'd like to be the first redness colouring the skin in an april day,the first ecstatic colour taking possession of a dried skinan old woman's eyes smiling slowly unworried who waves just to greetand well i'd like to be every single thing man doesn't catch yet.
Vorrei..
Souls souls or just souls i'd like to be part of a stolen photoi'd like to be the charming stranger in somebody's dreamturn myself in the mirror and see the person I desire instead of mei'd want endless sunny days and i'd want Time to splitup over and over again in pleasure parts I could taste uninterruptedlyhear me breathing sometimes,there's a melody into body sound, and it's singing in a low voiceand it's smiling with its eyes, and it's never tiredi'd like to be someone's wrong ideal,love at first sight that upset you, and you won't forget it anymorebecause you will never have the nerve to abet iti'd like to feed on just drinking faces and expressionsand reading some redness on a forbidden pleasure facesnail and insatiable lizard and night-perversion every other dayand rather than symbiosis, an avowed parasitismmutual and cannibal between brain and instinctit's cruel games in declared anguish of lifea voluptuous regreta boring happy memorya not declared pleasure restrained under bedspread for shamean organic taste too much easy to rememberbut vaguely indecent to declareforgiveness for bad actions that will comeforgiveness for the memory I already have about myselfit's easy to close the eyes and it's painful to openthem back again on account of too much lightand more, i'd like to be the simple joy in someonewho sees a forsaken toy and he's afraid and he'sdesiring to appropriatei'd like to be the first redness colouring the skin in an april day,the first ecstatic colour taking possession of a dried skinan old woman's eyes smiling slowly unworried who waves just to greetand well i'd like to be every single thing man doesn't catch yet.