The first time I saw her

DI GIANPAOLO MARCUCCI

The first time I saw her I was in the middle of a stairway,
she was sad but nice to me,
she was interested in what I was telling her, for free.

The first time I saw her there was something in the mind,
there wasn’t nothing even if I felt myself so deeply blind.

The first time I saw her she was a beautiful leaf gliding from a wall made of kindness and guilt,
the first time I saw her she was just shy as the man in me I’ve built.

The first time I saw her she had my eyes and I walked trough them like a gently touch,
the first time I saw her I missed myself so much.

I missed me in my neck, inside my chest,
I missed me inside my thoughts that never rest,
I missed me in the word you, in the word me,
I missed me in the little boy one time I used to be.

The first time I saw her she was in the middle of a stairway,
I was sad but nice to her,
the first time I saw her I was never really there.

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