God…I miss hers tattos
The cloud
The anchor
The prism

How the hell did i fucked up this?
She tried, so many times, to make me realize that this road that i created is only one way
She tried to make me feel confortable
and i push her away

my feelings
now don’t have many importance 
i just wanna be faded away
like a bad transition on a indie movie

my bus trips aren’t the same
the city lights don’t shine so bright
the talks…is what i miss the most

I could never understand 
How could i be so hurt?
How a Woody Allen’s fan could do so much damage?
Sometimes i catch myself watching annie hall
just to remember her expression

The clouds are faded away
The anchor is so deep that i could never see again
the prism refracted my will to live
The red hair is just a old photograph now…