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love your lifegolden heart, silver soul
someone new, something old
the same old story, the same way down
the same old saying, with the punching line
a fast look, a slowly move
the first choice, the last love
a sweet smile, hypnotic eyes
a hot day, a cool night
it's always happening, it can make you fall
but the real smart thing, is to let it go
let go of your troubles, let them flew away
see the blossom in another way
again with hard life, like you in kind of some stupid race
just stop thinking and get some rest
just close your eyes and dream you can fly
by the time they will open, you will love your life
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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