desert I drive
while Muddy cries loud
his drunk guitar

the only road to nowhere
and point.

so I froze
while your own tennis awaits you at the door
Near the bottom of the carmine wall

so I sigh
while I replace the pictures of your frames
so tearful, wistful remained.

so I transgress
while the mark of my anger slowly fades
and merges with the pallor of absence.

This, this and that.

(Dime, usted no entiende mi perfecto portugués?)