after all the talking,
she saw an oportunity
he left a small door open,
it was so tiny, that she almost missed it
so she reach out and touch his soul
just for an instant, it was almost like a dream
like it didnt happen
it was lust and angels
is like you can touch the sky,
and as soon as you get close enough, you fall
but when you fall, you're numb

she could let herself dream, and make you laugh
be gracefull and delicate
she could be smart enough to know when to back off
and then you'll completely fall for her
but she's not that type of girl
the one that waits for a men to writte her a poem
she's the one that writes a poem about him

Write a song and give it my name.
Write a poem, give it my beauty.

Oh beautiful flower, full of thorns, you so smells good in spring.

Write a song and sing it..
Scream it until you lose the voice.

Soft rose, you are so pretty, but you pricked me the fingers.

Writes this poem, shout it, whisper it.
Writte it, erase it, do it all over again.

So soft and fragile but so dangerous, you touched me and got pricked.

Write me a song and gives it my name.
Not love song honey, write a song which looks like me.

The pretty flower pricked you and now you want to burn her for that.
Boy, looks at what you made.
You want to burn the most beautiful thing that you saw by pride to have found stronger than you.
**Sadness.

Oh darling,
If only I could tell you how beautiful you are to me,
I know you and I were never meant to be,
But I was so capricious and reckless,
And I thought I could fool destiny,
Kidnap you, take you with me and and re-writte the code
But somethings are not meant to be,