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?