We don’t have endless pain
we have endless lies
and we ride the time
hoping to be nice
but we aren’t in love and we know
something is wrong with us.
Nice we say every single day
nice to be with
nice to hear it
nice to taste it
nice to feel it,
but we are not yet invited
to the glamour table, our sight
hide either blod or terror
and we care about each other
not too much
because is nice
to be wondering
who will kill
the other love.
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