Why do we live ? Why do we die ? Scream ? Cry ?
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I don’t want to be a robot : metro, work, sleep.
I never had my foot on earth I want to be a bird.
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There is like a bitter taste, like a taste of dust in everything and the anger that follow us.
There are silence that tells everything, more than the word that we say.
And all those questions that don’t have any sense
Surely, we still dance on the song we liked but not the same way. And we still laugh like kids but not like before.