For me, I ran so much
like a prey escaping a hunt
for me a broken road roller
cold wind that cuts the face.
For me, born among the monsters of the crossroads
influenced by the shadows on the steps that I took
for a dream, too big, too big
closed in a box that has no shape.
For me, burned cardboard
hard-wearing leftovers of a happy destiny.
For me, blood of a Christ
that is crucified but with no nails.
For me, it's life that goes
a minute, an year.
For me.
With my energies spent on difficulties
my mood swinging with the insults and the compliments
spitting against prejudice
and the health lost because of a vice.
I never saw the world
but I learned to travel anyway.
For me, middle school degree and building site
and hours and hours spent cleaning the same toilet.
For me, iron shoes
heavy for walking but sturdy.
For me, a needle, astonished,
a smile of joy with gaps between teeth.
For me, it's life that goes
a minute, an year.
For me.
For me, it's life that goes
a minute, an year.
For me.
With dirty but innocent thoughts,
moving to different apartments
and the songs written to make a living
great loves and never an altar.
With my energies spent on difficulties
my mood swinging with the insults and the compliments
spitting against prejudice
and the health lost because of a vice.
It's life that goes, a minute, an year.
For me, for me.