la pista anarchica
Dream Theater
Lines in the sand

we fabricate our demons
invite them into our homes
have supper with the alien
and fight the war alone

we conjure up our skeletons
enlist the den of thieves
frightened from our closets
then sewn upon our sleeves

in the stream of consciousness
there is a river crying
living comes much easier
once we admit
we’re dying

The only thing I know

when you left you left your memory
now it’s the only thing I know
so I’ll keep on living with your memory
because it’s all that I’ve got left