Si Te Vienes Conmigo

I want a love that covers with tile of pipes this open wound.
A loving companion and festive that opens my eyes and closes forever that door.
If you come with me.
If you come with me we will stop by the side of the road to see the trees dressing in leaves.
If you come with me we will fly confused among goldfinches and roses.
I want a love that covers with cannon tile this uncovered.
A lost and Sunday love that opens my eyes and closes forever that door.
If you come with me.
If you come with me we will stop by the side of the road to see the trees dressing in leaves.
If you come with me we will fly confused among goldfinches and roses.
If you come with me.
If you come with me we will leave without destination towards some lost place. We will be low consumption anarchists.
Devourers of pocket books. Literally. The worn thread of the screw kiss.
Installed in a variable time, for speaking, we will not speak anymore.
We will live plentily in fifty square meters. Mortgaged. Or sublet.
Or better, jumping, the one who could would like, in zig-zag.
Immoderate. Or moderate. Or immoderately moderate.
Or moderately immoderate. Or immoderately immoderate.