Thursday, August 11, 2016

Mexican Sunflower

I feel a hot wind on my shoulder,
And the touch of a world that is older,
I turn the switch and check the number,
I leave it on when in bed I slumber,
I hear the rhythms of the music,
I buy the product and I never use it,
I hear the talking of the DJ,
Can't understand just what does he say?
I'm on  a Mexican radio.

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