Fantasmi... ci parlo spesso
e spesso loro parlano a me
o di me
non l'ho mai capito bene questo
non l'ho capito tutte quelle volte
in cui li sento urlare tra loro
nella mia testa
quasi fosse la loro
ma forse io sono loro
o loro sono una parte di me
proprio oggi
che le voci son piccine
e schiacciate dalla grande ruota del tempo
che non mi lascia più tempo
proprio oggi
i fantasmi
parlanti o meno
me less afraid
fan of many reality ...
down their screaming
And Lily was only a shadow that evil was distinguished from the gray asphalt of the sky, the green lawn, and any other color of what was down there. It was a shadow that was around in that subterranean world. It was a ghost and Alibre smelled of mildew. As centuries had passed since the voices of friends, bats and wolves told stories. And maybe now, as a good ghost, it would be able to cross the sky asphalt. And as the ghost was easy to get to heaven, as the smoke, despite the immobility dell'Alibro. And up to the sky was really easy. But to break through the asphalt sky the will was not enough, needed a good reason. And this is Lily, had yet to find it. And it had to shout to be heard. Because few had heard his voice, even when he was alive. He tried to sing, but the effort to bring out the melody brought down to earth. Now that was a shadow on the grass looked like a dark pool of rain. But it was a ghost, pierced by the blades of grass.
of you can give a good reason to go to the little ghost in the world above the sky of asphalt?
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