Oh, child of our days, welcome to the theater of time,
Where dreams become a long nightmare…
I can hear the echoes of their cries.
My hands dig into the faceless hope of someone.
Someday, somehow, the rain will end.
Someday, somehow, the rain will fall.
I believe just by myself. There’s no a “together” in our life.
I walk for my own, I create by my own.
We eat, they don’t. We drink, they don’t.
We smile, they cry. We woke up, they don’t want to.
We want more, they want soar.
We are livinf, they are dying. We don’t know, they don’t want to.
As a drop from the sky that falls over a leaf,
We won’t stop until we hit the ground.
We say we fight for dreams, but we kill another tomorrow.
Judge me someday, I will pay for the tears of them.
We are living a rutine, dancing on the death’s gates.
We are going over the same destiny.
Our garden will be a dusty solitude of nothing.
Will the dawn awake our mornings?
We destroy, we feel.
We born, we die.
We create, we give.
We will be afraid, we have the vice.
This was a land without crysis.
Welcome to the hall of pain, my child.
Now we are going under the same traces;
Going down to turn this Heaven in a infernal Hell… by our consequences.
-Escrito por Alejandro Viloria. Miércoles, 01/02/12.