I remember the days when we were two stupid kids, we were eating blackberries grown on tombs and the moon was just a big stone the sun was leaving its last breath on.
Now I am looking for you on the Wood street where you last time smiled at me, on the Wood street where people eat with their hands the remains of those burned by unhappiness, while fools sing about love and dreams and the holes in their hearts.
I am looking for you and I don't know whether you are a human or a dream or the ash that slips through my frozen fingers.
Maybe you are just the hole in my soul, maybe the moon is more than a big stone, maybe I loved you maybe you are still there somewhere in the Sun's last breath. Maybe it's just your smile that has burned covering my soul my hands.