Don't promise me
endless paths,
on which the sun
For Teide goes.
Promise,
I thought erstwhile I tripped,
You won't let go of my hand.
And erstwhile the road
will become besides steep,
When each step
You'll gotta
fight with breath,
Don't ask,
If I can inactive do it.
It's just
Go next door.
Because I don't know,
where they lead
all Ramblas,
Happy Island.
All I know is,
If I'm going,
I'd like that.
come with you.
Even uphill :)
