Building A Floor For A Boat

With my hand in front of Impotence



Back again and breathe the same stale air, which surely must still be under your nose. That same heat
permeated every corner of the wood, where the light of the candle is hidden, like your body. That
solo singer, I repeated the melody filled with melancholy, lost in the murmur of the crowd.
So hurry these words, standing by eternal seconds, dams have been opened in my throat and threatening. Until the cigarette to my alerts fingers I still have not abandoned the painful area of \u200b\u200bmy body.
Each noble citizen looking for a night on the town, in this sad Santiago. Each heart seeking to reach a home, to sink into the maternal morning, announcing a new date and new words, for the same time these things do not change. Outside everything is forgotten, all are killed. The glass of beer waiting for me and I understand that the time scare me. A dilute what I hold your memory and cowardly for a moment just for a short period of time I forget who I am, what I say.
This location remains the same, I confronted him and the passage of time has left some traces in the two, perhaps more time revamping it, but inside is the same, the hand slipped as frozen in time on the surface of a table and clenched his fingers clinging to the immense desire to love. The intoxication of crazy
has undergone, in the tops of more than a normal man who raises his eyes and asks: "What the fuck do here?, Crazy laughs, inside, laugh non-stop ... The time
animal devouring the moments, the memories of you and me. Will take Neruda Neruda or join us and watch each one with his history, his way of getting the truth, with the table full of beer, the soul is real and will show the words that lucid the next day, no agreed.
roads or paths always end my looking for you, my worn shoes and I have been loading shared heart, my mind sailing in stormy waters and entertaining, this way of looking at dead of battles ever fought, or fighting, only escapes, murders in silence, living dead, in rapid gorges in impregnable places that nobody knows where the pain has no name, only my pain and like the petal of the flower. Following in the footsteps as a guerrilla, with his faith in the gun and raise my flags armed heart, for him, for her and for you. Suddenly

is that I hope to hear the nostalgic whisper of your voice so full of past, we know will never come back, just like we remember, will to peek at this present that he never thought to live ...
While the dark and secret death progresses slowly and there is no barricade to stop it, touches you, kill you and you fome actually fits in your camera, my eye looks to your window, your face is bloody, your smile would be carved hand liar of this, regardless of reason, blind to sell.

And I stay with the sleeping city, with night, greeting you with one hand on the forehead, knowing that a soldier from your ranks, recognizing my brothers, your sign in the front, unidentified seeds of life, love, dignity and flavors, always twinned with life, but also death.