I’ve had time to unfold
and see my face from the other lives.
I already threw the stone into the center of the pond.
I have buried tales and calendar,
I already exchanged the ball for gasoline.
He has set the forest on fire by setting the shore on fire.
I have listened to the rhythm of the carnies
putting a price on my agony:
hedgehog families in their cold hands.
A way out will have to be invented,
there is no longer a rudder in drifting.
You had a pulse to hook me,
enlisted in suicide armies.
I went into the forest and didnt find the lookout.
A lair will have to be invented,
I don’t want rudder drifting.
Each one to take their measurements.
There is a hope in the drift.
A way out will have to be invented.
That fate does not take the measures for us.
There is a hope in the drift.