Yesterday I burned your letters, all of them,
from my past love, sad memory;
why revive, better for what it's worth,
if there is no soul among us.
why revive, better for what it's worth,
if there is no soul among us.
Papers without color and without memory,
like the flowers that dried the autumn;
They were beautiful, right, but they are worth,
if they read them in pain if they made dust
They were beautiful, right, but they are worth,
if they read them in pain if they made dust.
They were beautiful, true, but they are worth,
if they read them in pain if they made dust
They were beautiful, right, but they are worth,
if they read them in pain if they made dust.
Only among all we can make this a better place :)