Three years ago gathered in the white box of gray to be filled.
Quiet, see each other behind the right front, left.
Me and you started from a small smoke obsession.
Future, the ideals that had been in the brain, accompanied.
Determination, will, efforts to freeze the heart no dead.
Then (still) I and you begin to learn.
About the time the reluctant negotiable.
And all, like a wheel, start walking, they are.
For some reason now I and you become we.
With the morning greeting was always faithful.
We're together.
That's when a white box gray filled.
"Stories and Dreams" is the main role is always colored.
Almost every day, we are there.
It offered to give a sense of white ash.
Because, we are still headed one.
All the joy it was to be a silent witness over time.
Then, we walked deserted, without looking backward.
Now we understand. We still will be ended by a dream.
The sun will still smiling, leading the desired step
The morning will still say hello,
Invites us to wake up and reach all hope.
Although the end, the good times of this, there would be, stick, stick,
in the brain to death.
Eventually the gate was open,
Invites us to see the other side of the world.
At the end of white color was gray whole.
The future that must be achieved even with millions of sweat.
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