When I was a girl, had nothing but joys,
my room was the symbol of candour and toys.
Each minute I'd have I'd spend them in it
playing and laughing or crying a bit...
But sooner or later I had to grow up
and learn how to challenge both hazard and luck.
My room was my place, my dear paradise
where I used to think and get myself wise.
My room was my vice through which I was free,
the most little space important to me.
So I shared with it my heaven, my hell,
and just like a best friend 'he' knew me damn well!
But yesterday night when I was in bed
I made a discovery: my room is my head.
my room was the symbol of candour and toys.
Each minute I'd have I'd spend them in it
playing and laughing or crying a bit...
But sooner or later I had to grow up
and learn how to challenge both hazard and luck.
My room was my place, my dear paradise
where I used to think and get myself wise.
My room was my vice through which I was free,
the most little space important to me.
So I shared with it my heaven, my hell,
and just like a best friend 'he' knew me damn well!
But yesterday night when I was in bed
I made a discovery: my room is my head.
3 comentários:
Mandela já tinha feito semelhante descrição acerca da sua cela. Curiosa noção humana a que nos faz limitar os nossos horizonte a 4 paredes
Great minds think alike :)
That's very good indeed!
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