Walking down the streets, a dry road, lost in my thoughts, not a single person.
Only him, ruffling my hair, as usual, and slowing my march.
I just want to get home.
Faster than the wind, more slowly than light.
You could give me a warm breeze, but not warm me to my bones.
Not heard but contempt of your name, dishonoring the name of the wind to the nth.
However, the sun... when shone always pleased everyone.
I guarded thee, I embrace myself into my red coat to keep your shakes. I was looking for tricks, alleys, walls ... anything to avoid you, however you long appeared.
But who are we going to cheat? I've always preferred the gray days.
An autumn so variable, he had not gone away, still looking at me, giving me memories from afar.
It was me the one sitting in the window,looking how you shaked them all, and me,safeguard at home, laughed about all these doomed, unconscious I would go out someday.
So cynical, so fast, you runned around the street, under skirts and dresses, fast, before anyone stopped you.
You were just a song in the morning in a rumpled bed, a melody filtering through my blinds, I did not even open the window to let you in.
Unstable, always on guard, waiting to your burst change.
Waiting for the breeze becomes a hurricane.
Only him, ruffling my hair, as usual, and slowing my march.
I just want to get home.
Faster than the wind, more slowly than light.
You could give me a warm breeze, but not warm me to my bones.
Not heard but contempt of your name, dishonoring the name of the wind to the nth.
However, the sun... when shone always pleased everyone.
I guarded thee, I embrace myself into my red coat to keep your shakes. I was looking for tricks, alleys, walls ... anything to avoid you, however you long appeared.
But who are we going to cheat? I've always preferred the gray days.
An autumn so variable, he had not gone away, still looking at me, giving me memories from afar.
It was me the one sitting in the window,looking how you shaked them all, and me,safeguard at home, laughed about all these doomed, unconscious I would go out someday.
So cynical, so fast, you runned around the street, under skirts and dresses, fast, before anyone stopped you.
You were just a song in the morning in a rumpled bed, a melody filtering through my blinds, I did not even open the window to let you in.
Unstable, always on guard, waiting to your burst change.
Waiting for the breeze becomes a hurricane.
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Lovely words
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