At forty-ten,
Forty-nine say that I look,
More before then,
I have to face the delicate moment
To start thinking
In picking me up, from sitting down,
To resign myself to dictate testament
(sorry for the sadness).
So that my relatives, convicted
To an ungrateful future,
Do not suffer what I have suffered, I have decided
Do not leave them a hard one,
Only love rights,
A seven in the heart and a sea of ??doubts,
Provided that no
They are misappropriated, on the trail, by my widows.
And, when, to my dew,
It stings the soul and passes chickenpox,
And, a red chill,
Mark the age of my carmela's turkey,
You have a bad example, a coal hop
And an d'Artac? N that barks them,
For every kiss you give them?
The fanfare of his father.
But without haste, that, at the Masses
Of r? Quiem, I was never an amateur,
What, the wooden suit, which brand new ?,
It is not even planted,
What, the priest, who has to give me the extreme,
He is not yet an altar boy,
That, to be commercial, to this song
He is missing a good chorus.
Since I go out with the pale lady
I am more dead than alive,
But sleep the eternal sleep in your bed
It seems excessive to me,
And, what I have never given up looking for,
In open lips,
They say that there are kisses of those who give them to you,
And they raise a dead person.
And, if at my grave, you come to visit,
The day of my birthday,
And I do not take care of you, wait for me, in the little room,
Until he comes back from the bathroom.
Who can care,
After death, that one has his vices ...?
The day of the final judgment
Maybe God is my lawyer by trade.
But without haste, that, at the Masses
Of r? Quiem, I was never an amateur,
What, the wooden suit, which premiere ?,
It is not even planted,
What, the priest, who has to give me the extreme,
He is not yet an altar boy,
That, to be commercial, to this song
He is missing a good chorus.
Only among all we can make this a better place :)