when I hear the bird sing

when I hear the bird sing I can not help thinking that it's time , but also why I am willing to go around the city trying not to go where I know everything is set for it to be done outside lights , what bothers me to know the time, because given the thing I do not see how I could turn on the light when it's time to leave, and then this is something that surprises me how to get to do it all in the allotted time to be young , which would mean that everything is slow, there are no shortcuts , for I always do against the same hoping that one day I find the rhythm, that which descends and ascends passing around looking for something that is there, who is here, that changes, that remains the same , which manages when it gets stuck and this is just a good time, then we must continue so that in time we will be ready , that's why I start, I do not know when I'll stop , I can have be right for a few years, then I would do something else , it must stop when we no longer have anything to say for the moment I feel that I have an endless supply , j ' have so much to say that it happens in the disorder but especially when everything is moved must be careful to keep with you what matters the most and does not change place, it is not much, a woman naked , a cookbook , and some ribbons of colors, but that does not always take the same form that is light on the milk jug , all of a sudden it's Tuesday , I had not planned it was going so fast, but above all I believe that every moment is unique, we live every moment and when it goes alone to see if this is how it works, we seek an answer, it does not come , the time happening, where is the answer, it is a route of where the result of something that is hidden and will not bother to explain why one should always go and see what happens there there to always return to the same place