Amsterdam Nights

Never more I want to hear that voice saying to come back at the same place where everything started. The words do not say me what I must make when the reason finishes, because before believing the truth, it was necessary to lie on what you take me. The things were so simple when it did not have details to be clarified, or better, when it did not have reasons to support doubts that never are memories of a happy time that I passed before. To recommence is necessary, now and always, although the nights without sleeping, to the wait of the miracle that is not in me. Of the window, I hear the stars of Amsterdam, way on the rocks in fire and direct my thought the optimum one that I could make while yearning for the angels of, the tomorrow always faithful one to the promises of yesterday. I take care of to protect me of the cold, wanting to know how many minutes are allowed me until something supervenes to the directions and it makes me to adormecer without the city hinders me to spell a name in small letters, from fear to be recognized for as much fluidity. They do not say me what already I know, but necessary to know that hours passes the train of the butterflies, in the speed that the eyes allow that I am. Another day, new address. Things that do not compete me judging, because I am even a stranger the places for I walked UA-20619825-1.