.Que te han visto aranar banquetas con tus tacones de aguja,
Que no sales del bar, que vives entre burbujas,
Que te sangra la nariz, que la bulimia hoy es tu gerente,
Que ya no existe barniz para tu blanco, casi transparente,
Que te inyectas la soledad, y le echas polvo a la rutina,
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