OURS

OURS

Ours comes.

It's so old,

It's almost a suburb.

Broken soul anticipated;

Short trails and slow phrases,

Among all things and others,

Do not miss out on the void,

What more gives eternity,

For four years I've been bitten

They are gone, gone:

A natural flower of the city.

CÓMO TE ATREVES

{MORAT}

CUÁNTO ME DUELE

{MORAT}

REBEL REBEL

{DAVID BOWIE}

TITI TIME (C)