Maybe it's because nothing lasts
Neither the pastures. nor the green
Neither the lovers we once were
Neither cold, nor the fog
Maybe it's because nothing resists
Neither the August vacationers, nor the July ones
Neither the gentlemen, nor the ladies
Neither chick flicks, nor the drama
My balcony faces the yard
It faces the yard
It faces an exit
And the scattered garbage
Maybe it's because nothing survives
Neither that path, not that track
Neither the spring that comes to its end
Neither the steeple, nor the ave(nue)
Maybe it's because nothing matches
Neither the scenery, nor the storyboards
Neither our minds, nor our souls
Neither the jokes, nor intermissions.
My balcony faces the yard
It faces the yard
It faces an exit
And the scattered garbage
My balcony faces the yard
It faces the yard
It faces an exit
And the scattered garbage