aurelio.asiain:
They seem to be burning already
aurelio.asiain:
Not his hands but the air
aurelio.asiain:
What we give to the fire
aurelio.asiain:
They were used to other hands
aurelio.asiain:
On their way to the ashes
aurelio.asiain:
Let them get what they want
aurelio.asiain:
The perfect geometry of last moments
aurelio.asiain:
Some used to write ardent lines
aurelio.asiain:
Being a priest was his destiny
aurelio.asiain:
There it goes to the flames
aurelio.asiain:
With words, with numbers, with souls
aurelio.asiain:
Things seem to fall in order
aurelio.asiain:
The fire they always dreamed with
aurelio.asiain:
This came out of the blue