there was me
in a bed sheet
and then there was you
in a trendy tweet
I was only passing by a moment of rest
you were as always looking at yourself in the mirror
I was waiting for your call
hoping you would give me a goal
waiting for you to water the plants
listening to the sound of the clouds.
If no angel ever cried or shouted any call of fight
it means only his golden curls were a sign of delight
he never meant a revolt never had to scream
the sound of victory that God has whispered you in a dream
IF all the angels were as gay as those in the sky
then maybe you were never as happy as those whom pity in hell cry
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