EPIC-POP

You're not my sick,
You're not my mind,
but every day I feel you very inside of mine.

You're not my blood,
but you're around,
maybe your essence sometimes is the same of mine.

I can't stand,
you by my side,
leave me alone or stop your wishper every nigth.

In this white site,
I'm gonna die,
electric death for both embracing us in time.

In this white site,
through round glass,
we're gonna fuse for last time to know who am I.

eduardnov, març'05