I do not have more than I've wrote in me
With purple ink and from my soul a gift
Of golden words and gentle deeds will be
Enough today for losses that you grieved.
Don't beg for more, 'cause I'm renouncing all
And I am asking nothing in return;
All mighty pride and glory like a thrall
And all the comfort and the wit I've earn.
But in the end, if love will flourish white
another proffesional begger
the saxophone gathers up its dreams in match boxes
I could swear that I have memories only of you
flying our nights with sales hunting the presence
of a sure morning
an antropomorphic indian dance of pure dreams
inside one midnight
if we didn't know we could dream
would we dream?
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