Dreams are renewable. No matter what our age or condition, there are still untapped possibilities within us and new beauty waiting to be born.
Unas piceladas aqui,
Ojos de tal forma,
Y como sabemos si gusta?
Unos quilos menos,
Huessos de esta manera,
Y si sabemos que no gusta?
Una barba por rapar,
La mirada confiante,
Y si la belleza gusta?
Una postura sexy,
Pies con esa luz,
Y si ese es el secreto de gustar?
Uns momentos parece que me amas,
E a chuva adensa o transito.
Uns dias parece que me castigas,
E o vento bate à porta.
Mas eu até gosto de ti,
E não sei o que sinto,
Ou quero sentir.
Her eyes are dark,
as the hair,
but I don't get her.
She laughs out loud,
as on the phone,
She makes me scared.
Her hands are soft,
but she is not her,
She was a surprise.
On a mild morning,
cards,
talk,
and an ideia that can't seem to slip my mind.
On an early night,
drinks,
talk,
and an ideia that was stuck in my mind.
On another day,
far,
talk,
and an ideia growing in two minds.
On a late afternoon,
travel,
talk,
and an ideia that crossed bouth our minds.
Tristes noches de borrachera,
tristes amores de arrechera,
concertados,
fallados.
Tristes cantos de ceguera,
tristes mantos de cera,
revoltados,
irados.
Tristes flores de guerra,
tristes pies con tierra,
mojados,
engañados.
