Women Soccer Team In The Shower

Può il vento passare attraverso l'ombra?

As long as my hands slipped on the wood of the guitar,

while the case is vibrating,

that trembles in the chest as cough,

notes dry dust-swept wind.

I feel impetuous

sand with his feet sunk in the chilly winter

trembling as the sixth string,

vibrates under your clothes completely surround

pending unpredictable direction that I want to follow.

The wave breaks on the sand, afraid of approaching,

to let go and wet i miei piedi.

Un viaggio nel tempo,

senza tempo,

con soste veloci ,

avvolgendo fari dalla stanca lampada,

che lanciano in mare

funi intrecciate di solitudine,

che sbiadiscono rapidamente.
Un arpeggio che shoots ahead of a world in the shadows,

trembling,

laughs

and watches in silence.

That deafening silence he wants.

Rami scratched,

windswept,

sand,

reflecting the leaden sky,

catching those sounds,

that seems not to hear,

stopped a bar C sharp minor,

small insects clinging to the sand,

when everything goes dark shadow of the dune.

Seizing the moment

not mean scatters details

fast sailing in the wind.

He gets up,

sweeps the dune

smiles shade

that shadow is not.

The horizon draws him,

because the horizon does not exist.

Eyes are lowered in a gesture of defiance,

the edges of the lips widen,

unsettling grin.

Secchi noise that cut through the silence,

slam the gates of hell

"There nessunoooooooooo?"

Wind goes.