Evalia closes the storm at 7 p.m

Drinking a glass of tea during the break of a men cheating the flood upon my breast.

Evalia didn’t know much

that the stars walked out from the podium,

for the nature I can’t conserve

I was run by sick and the weakness.

At 10 p.m the old melody of the night speaks for the same,

Storm still fucks to blame

And then Evalia glarring at my face

Throwing me into an angelic of my men

“I never believe in you, Evalia. I never feel sorry for the gone of my men.”