Coys
Come on, man, stop looking at the clouds!
Don’t you know that the grey skies almost never scream and shout?
Avoid listen to your heart that only wants trouble and pain
And once again, don’t underestimate the ones that try to clean up after your stains
If the rhyme collects my emotions, simplicity and sense
I’ll tell her that I carry a bag of spoken words transformed into sorrows for my defense
I would rather stop thinking at all instead of stopping my feelings for being afraid to fall
So dont worry, Danny Boy, the death rows, drinks and women are still there
But at this point
Do you think you still care?
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