.Era spento quel sole,
Sulle mani splendeva
Dove la colpa intrisa all'amore,
Germogliava ferite strane.
Era vuota la stanza,
In attesa anche il vento
E c'era pure del sangue il silenzio,
Sussurrava al tuo cuore una danza.
Era sporco quel viaggio,
Conducev.
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