New York is frozen for March almost a desert without gloves hands in pockets... a red scarf around the neck I drag my feet it bothers me to think about you without being able to offer you the stars _ tonight we are a little zombie you know how it is in war against something without a name
spring is foreign to me the real Killer is a laconic wolf like Leonard Cohen it kills me to know where you sleep now in secure arms that are not mine remove my memory from my eyes turn on at least one light in that windowless chest and give me air put me where the flowers can bloom where there are trees sidewalks with people taken by human malice but if you want to kick me out completely _ tonight it will perhaps be the right time in which, in addition to loneliness, I feel inside the winter the true one with the wind between the trembling bones my stomach on fire from too much cognac with nerves tense with fear to be alone Once again that's why winter is made you know _ to break up
Liberty Street is silent with boredom luxury predators are missing the nocturnal cackles there are only sirens and ambulances who walk death and U. S all of us we stayed here prisoners of a strange enemy while the chill air with its music box twirls among the skyscrapers who dance as we dance to the distant singing of the sirens with the dead with the wounded hold on to miracles to hopes
shiny shoes walk but not a noise an icy hand on the temple _ as I would like the life before a red wool scarf that winks at a traffic light through without looking... me and my shoes are the only ones in Heaven
and what about you who comforts you who counts the clouds above your head when you are in the middle of the embrace... you get lost or talk there is a difference you were silent with me because I made you dream sex was not a meeting of bodies with me but I fly in all the feathers of your pillows you won't find summer for I have taken away all the flocks my bags of fairy tales and the brigade of ghost poets
I have a smell on me that tastes good the fried and takeaway shops are closed I wrap the red scarf around my neck - looking at the clothes in the windows I follow the trails of the street lights like a Ariadnè s thread
and all of this world brings me to you apartment 112 seventh floor in the dark who knows if you think about me and if you think about me Why? I would break through the door with this ridiculous love like that I shout your name in Central Park sincerely? nobody cares they will punish me for disturbing the quiet almost naked with my red scarf... but it's colder in me than outside it is so cold that only as a drunk could I stop delirious your call that call is not a Cop stops me and I tell him I'm Leonard Cohen why don't you arrest me? Becausè? I tell him about my love drama - go home - he says I apologize and sing to Famous Blue Raincoat while I tie my red scarf to a tree why don't you freeze hoping for tomorrow the summer with you it would be better
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