The story

"(...)

All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don't mean anything

(...)

You see the smile that's on my mouth
It's hiding the words that don't come out
And all of my friends who think that I'm blessed
They don't know my head is a mess
No, they don't know who I really am
And they don't know what
(...)"


À Diana, o meu obrigada.
Pela dedicatória... pelas palavras...
Pela amizade e pela insubstituível presença diária.


Roubado aqui.

.