Photgrap-Jamie Cullum

Abrir la caja de esa vieja colonia, esa con las pocas fotos que no rompí.

Her name was written on a photograph,
right next to her red, sunburnt face,
it all had happened in that long tall grass,
about a mile from her old place,
and I can't remember how it started and if it lasted that day in the sun.

We said that we were going to study hard,
we held our books instead of hands,
she held a blanket over cans of beer,
I can't deny I was so full of fear.

It's just another story caught up in another photograph I found.
and it seems like another person lived that life a great many years ago from