A song about you.

I'm hugging this cold machine thinking
that your sprit will come out if I rub more
This is not sadness, this is the anger
This is not anger.

i'm cutting my dreams with a machete
i don't have.
because I can not stand
your face, somewhere on a mountain
among all my words that suffocate
they'r choking you
are they choking you?

I think about Cuba and the stars,
about the strange colored waves on the night of
today and the next day,
six hundred and eighty-five
on the night of time and infinity.

I have strange energy in my bones
while running after your pupils
I'm becoming a string on your guitar
i love silence of recoil.

oh, this song is not about you
nor will it ever be
not from me.
I'm not sorry.