.Viajar por tus poros
No es el aire el que me hace hablar>
Es tu risa.
Viajar, no es el aire el que
Me hace hablar>
Es tu risa.
Y vagare sembrando en la orilla
Y al regresar mi lengua afilada
Sabra podar todo lo falso.
Viajar por tu sangre
No es lo suave lo qeu m.
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