Angel ... Angel (Andante cantabile)
fishy smell of your skin gleam of polished copper from your hair look of melancholy and thoughtful adult, child ... well ... Angela Angela Angelo mio. Cancel your eyes
sailing and wind mouth ajar vision of peace and quiet life and annihilation anxiety and fear inviting oasis Angelo .. I like where you're walking the streets of the world makes you who you are looking for mild fatigue that did not already know?
I am a flower and you
my bee wandering
one thousand mark the return
who lost time on the hands ... If
through shutters opened you will see a light knock on the door of that house because I'll be there, where a sunset with the sun drowned in the sea weaving shadows and colors on the deserted beach you will find me, Angela ... my angel.
Swan in the city, a city of adventure. Court mob was behind you, stand your innate delicacy elegance of your figure, I already bowed under the yoke of illusion betrayed. Looked at me triumphantly pierced your eyes vaguely cruel twist between your teeth foams the flash of a smile, you've won. Gestures that
s'ammorbidiscono shelter. Music Wine flushing resistance that melt drop endless. Anecdotes from your past, so real, varied and colorful words like stones that are lost in the air are breaking on my face like a caress entangled in your hands that dance. Other fall at your feet, I lean, I gather the, they compose with the fascinating mosaic ... Angela ... Angela Angela Angelo mio.
Tremor of looks thirsty. Debride the wishes like dreams (in a hand trembles caress) we almost brown cobalt. Breathe mysteries broken on invisible strings are suspended, there is an absurd swirl. Night you tell her I drowned her throat sweet words in his eyes have lost millions of stars!
Angelo Angela Angela ... my heart beats faster beats the soul longing penetrate every cell is set ... the mystery of your eyes (bite lip kisses sweet) ...
centuries and centuries and centuries would not suffice to say your eyes
centuries would not suffice in my
tonight will be tomorrow ... my regret my nostalgia m 'to the abandonment of useless emotions dripping crazy to theft of quick kisses, duelists caress before striking. Angela
if you were snow I loosed my arms and I would drink that water as an asset if you were my sun burn itself out gradually until it became ashes ashes were I wish you the trampled to enjoy one of your Angela caress ... My angel! Sounds like ...
abstract electronic music come from our lips like soap bubbles, two foolish children try to hold them and know that the game is impossible ...
The lamp illuminates ridiculous flight of a moth wings uncertain dancer struggling vainly trying harmonies movements after wave sublime, and continues to turn to turn the light beam before falling exhausted by the beautiful mirage.
A cruel blade separates us finally with a clean cut, worn look to stay on the abyss fall. Rattling
engulfing the train held breaths, hoping to find or just a goodbye ...
a moment of stillness shatters
kept secret emotions
clumsily hidden. Angela Angela
not get up your sail if the sea is a garden of wind, Angela's love of night and moon Lay down your anchor in the harbor of my happy arms!
... And I find myself trying to remember the music and words hanging in the air routes run after impalpable, so lively, m'inebrio sighs. I live in the shadows searching for light, I am not a body of abstract quenches thirst.
Unnecessary m'avvolge in the coils of cotton candy sweet and rocked in Trinidad of abstract taste the nectar of anything ... But I do not hold the wires inconsistent, and I realize I'm falling. The people do not see
pass my shadow, I walk in the desert
are here ... My angel beside me saying the same words even your rice is to always have your eyes looking at me with his usual evasive look a bit 'strange changing as a March sky sit with dignity angelic idol to which everything is due. Your hands (incredible hands) embroider fanciful air soft lines (your hands dance) you are right you have the same smell the same scarf of our first meeting and are you are you're with me, and deep melancholy eyes of malice convoluted copper shiny hair you are you really you ever and ever, you do not find in me, I dig into the bowels and can not find your picture ...
Only a chasm, where it falls in my nostalgia.
Mauro Cristofani
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