They wrote sad words of sin:
The wrong time,
The wrong beat,
The wrong night It was raining and you were crushed.
The wind was deserted,
the night dark,
You had a thought that warmed up,
You took it with you inside the hotels of iron.
And then he came,
with a shadow in his heart,
devouring donuts,
devouring the dust of ancient houses.
You wanted to escape the grave,
and your rose was still alive.
Then the flower turned daisy yellow,
Wine had the last drop on his heart And the car went into the ravine.
THE PRODIGY OF IDEAS 