A day to be addicted
Another moment to the time
I'm back to my ignorance
A relevant desire
To display my thoughts to borrow
My aches like a saint
And the ships to heaven sinking
To the sea my arms are faint
Hot asphalt, smelly gloom
Kings of all places will
Destroy our memories as we
Use to do with our children
Rich ones carve their names in graves
The poor ones are only insane
My mistakes tell nothing
About my tiring journeys
Don't know what else I can write
For their demands, some martyr's kites
Awaiting for us, church skeletons
Nimble fingers to our pockets
Nimble fingers to our pockets
Hot asphalt, lovely doom
Irrigating investments, a brain and a broom
Should save the world from the sinners issues
As we choose to be what we are
As we choose to be what we are
As we choose to be what we are