The gray hair of oblivion…

Those that were not imposed,
only postponed…

Those who combed the wind of absence,
of carelessness and the resentment…

The ones that I caress on my stage,
when I miss so much that you rock me again…
in your chest…

Those who were not modest,
but the oddest…

The ones that the sun’s rays surf,
on this bitter afternoon…
of envy and unease…

Those who dye blond,
to hide that her reason already doesn’t care about you…

They are the gray hair of oblivion,
of pride and goodbye.