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Usa A− / A+ para ajustar el tamañoMy Death
My death waits like an old roue'so confident, I'll go his waywhistle to himand the passing time...my death waits like a bible truthat the funeral of my youthwe drank for that -the passing time..my death waits likea witch at nightas surely as our love is rightlet's not think of that or the passing timeBut whatever lies behind the doorthere is nothing much to do...angel or devil, I don't carefor in front of that door...there is you.My death waits like a beggar blindwho sees the world through an unlit mindthrow him a dimefor the passing time...my death waits to allow my friendsa few good timesbefore it endslet's not think aboutand the passing time..my death waits there, between your thighs,your cool fingers will close my eyes,let's not think about the passing time.For whatever lies behind the doorthere is nothing much to do...angel or devil, I don't carefor in front of that door...there is you.My death waits there among the leavesin magician's mysterious sleeves,rabbits and dogs, and the passing time...my death waits there, among the flowerswhere the blackest shadows cowersso let's pick lilacsthe passing time..my death waits there, in a double bedsails of oblivion and my headlet's not think aboutthe passing time.But whatever lies behind the doorthere is nothing much to do...angel or devil, I don't carefor, in front of that door...
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