I’m living in a box
and I don’t mind;
I don’t look at it much
from the outside.
I’m living in a box
but that’s ok,
‘cause when the door locks
I do things my way.
I’m living in a box
which is all right:
all houses are equal
when you sleep at night.
I’m living in a box
and that’s terrific
‘cause when I die
I know I won’t miss it.
2 comments:
A beautiful poem, written by a beautiful lady, with a dreadful end...
Eu digo a mesma coisa que o Fernando, mas em português, que em inglês expresso-me muito mal... Mas como ele já disse, não vale a pena repetir...
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