What I took for granted now I lack
What I have others take for granted
Will this piece of paper exist in a hundred years?
My words will pass…
I’m not close enough to be a David or a Mozart
The truth is I write from this corner of my room and nobody knows it but the three of us.
Is about time that I take a stand to leave a heritage, to be famous of love, of love.
So who am I really?