Ismael Iniguez Carvajal Biography

A softly spoken word
Falls off the tip of my tongue
Pressed lips and a gentle kiss
...

Let the sunset hit my eyes
At less I know
That I tried...
...

My vice, My sin
Where did it Begin

To self-fulfill
...

Days gone by
On the wings of angels fly
As the grains of sand do lie
...

Every time the waves roll in
Its like a new adventure
That will begin
...