The drought was the very worst
When the flores that we'd grown together died of thirst
It was months, and months of back and forth
You're still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore
Hung my head as I lost the war, and the sky turned black like a perfect storm
Rain came pouring down when I was drowning
That's when I could finally breathe
And por morning gone was any trace of you,
I think I am finally clean
There was nothing left to do
When the borboletas turned to dust that covered my whole room
So I punched a hole in the roof
Let the flood carry away all my pictures of you
The water...
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