23.05.2021
Postcard
I'm sat inside a postcardLooking here from close, everything is so normal
The most beautiful image of a capital
Printed in a magazine made me happy
But looking here from close
everything is so normal
I bought a hang-glider to try a flight
I tried, didn't work, but I'll try again
The problem is I don't know how to climb the hill
And it's necessary to be up there in order to throw yourself
I didn't find no way, but it's written
I'll try again
I wait for dinner under the table
Looking here, muted, I was certain
That the legs by my side will grow old
And the shoes they wear will lose their glaze
Flesh lasts less than any wood
Than any wood
Than any wood
Than any wood
Than any wood