These voices you hear?
are a world away just one step
My land here looks like a little girl
Looks good
still bears the marks on
Mothers and hands clinging to the hope that the merchants
were selling one another
torn between the roots of those who had the strength to try another
where
or to do without
The rain then
remind people that more men
would remain
For some, the concept was a little 'less clear
and his compassion
sold it to the gram
Who knows what it feels like to see open
under a piece of hell on its own feet
Who knows how it feels when
what you read
overflows from lines
and tearing all the sheets
Who knows how it feels to discover
instinct
beyond promises
beyond the claims
Who knows how it feels to let
or to consume wait
cursing prayers
We, the sons of the windows of the stars
rent
and dreams in a box
sometimes we should remember also the case
we should remember that from the beginning
or even before we were more
that survivors
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