Sketchs

"I've seen many faces, places

and all turn into disgraces, lifes

I've lived many, many ones

to care about the dust you'll become.

I've walked into the valley of death

I've flown with a fallen angel wings

Into my veins, the touch of god, burns

and on my mind, my own fairie sings.

I have no soul to sell

but a thousand stories to tell

become what you always wanted to be

and there will be no place anymore to flee"

Incompleta ainda.