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My father used to tell me that a righteous man should always put his interest first |
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" You can' t make anyone happy if you' re not, son" , he said |
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His hand grasping firmly my shoulder |
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All my life I follow his rule |
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Free to go anywhere, free to meet anyone, free to enjoy every moment |
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My way… it has always been my way of doing things |
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As soon as I' ve stopped feeling please and happy |
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My bags were on the backseat of my car and the engine ready to fight against the asphalt |
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The fading architectures through the window have always inspired me |
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I wanted to merge into this constant dynamic and never had to stop |
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Never had to feel inertia one more time |
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I loved the smell of conditioned air |
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I used to fill my lungs with it and keep it in me, until I got dizzy |
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But, when my dad passed out |
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I' ve started to wonder: |
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What if I am the main reason of my confusion? |
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|
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I' ve remembered the cities I had left behind |
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So many places where I had never build anything |
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I' ve remembered all my old friends I had betrayed by being a selfish bastard |
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A useless ghost |
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My life has always been about escaping not moving |
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While everything I ever needed was a mere shift of origin |
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|
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My father used to tell me |
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Confusion |
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A mere shift of origin |
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The fading architectures |
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Confusion |
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A mere shift of origin |
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