To give relief to these penalties,
I split the front and the soul,
I've been looking at the moon
through the thin acacias.
the moon is something that suffers,
between a divine halo of silver;
there is something you kiss your eyes
and dry, crying, tears.
I do not know what's the moon,
petting, sleeping and calming
and looking in silence at the surrender,
Santa with huge properties.
and tonight, I suffer and I think
free of the meat to my soul,
I've been looking at the moon,
through the thin acacias.
