A sad woman with dirty hands, working in
the mine
Tired, I told you. Cannot listen to me
shouting
The death of a sad woman makes a man sad
Fire it is, the soul deep in there
Appearing invisibly the ghost of memories
The ones that weren’t real, if you think
about it
She comes to you and spins
Looking at you like a pregnant woman,
who is ready to give birth the first child
She is scared but very confident
She wants to fight and swear at
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