In your bedroom
With all the promises made to you
And with which you know you lacked dignity
To accomplish or destroy them.
You ask for rescue
Because you think is possible
Although you already feel you will betray
Because the sole hope to be saved
Already tickles in you the suspicion to repeat it again.
Firm is the column
What you look is strait
But you can not mimic it
The desperation of a tragedy
That isn’t enough to seal a commitment.
Don’t look above any more
If you still like to maintain your feet in sand
And finish reciting excuses
If you really want something impossible.
The street can be soft yet
And for each fatigue is provided a rest
And the pieces always end fitting
If you decide to get out of the play on time
However, if some sounds
If some image from a point you don’t remember
If you still believe the air you breathed could link
That what you felt with someone who pretended you honestly
It may be that the walls finally give up
And you don’t even need the base of your inner ear
To pass standing the night where the sun usually shines
Without lighting more than the slope plenty of parties
Maps, guides and signals where all the beginning is condemned to an end.
Four thousand years are worthwhile
Like four millions centuries
Unless, rather than changing the planet
You can transform a bunch of stars in only one
Able to fit in you as solitary act of faith.