If it weren't for the fact that I was high,
I would've become unplugged waiting for you.
Condemned to look at you from the outside
and let the sun touch you.
And were my life a staircase I would have spent my time looking for the next step.
Convinced that you are on the rooftop waiting for me.
And leave behind the pathway to the back door,
from where I saw you leave.
Like a watering can that makes the gra** grow again,
and now everything is meadow.
Her soldiers are wooden flowers
and my army hasn't got flag
It's just a heart
condemned to live among weeds
sowing cotton flowers.
If the treacherous d**h is waiting for me
and before to spread myself,
I look my whole self in a drawer.
Bury me with my dick hanging out
so that a mouse eat it.
And night and day people are dying on the TV
I want to hear some song that doesn't deal about nonsense and that tells that there's no leftover love
and starts with "Yes" but not with "No"
And leave behind the pathway to the back door,
from where I saw you leave.
Like a watering can that makes the gra** grow again,
and now everything is meadow.
You claim that sometimes you don't understand what my voice says
How do you want me to be inside your navel?
if a flower slips between my fingers flying away
and it, by itself, leads the way.
You claim that sometimes you don't understand what my voice says
How do you want that I know what i'm saying?
if a flower slips between my fingers flying away
and I let it lead me the way.