| With tasty, silent and naked hands, | |
| the breaking days ways their commerce | |
| the routine grey face broke on fools | |
| we lay down bound to all these rules. | |
| The factory who dissolves seem lost, | |
| rightly meaning, all of their cost, | |
| they leave us from the search/invest, | |
| and feed them all to set their heaps. | |
| Staying impotent, | |
| settling down, | |
| just means that death, | |
| comes fast around. | |
| And he felt he's still living for | |
| To cross the wreckage filled canal, | |
| a rebel lost cast poisoned fish, | |
| that he won't eat and he can wish. | |
| Past dustbins filled with stray cartoons, | |
| garbage cans and rusty bins, | |
| the stream of life calls, we divide, | |
| the time and fear that we deny. | |
| Staying impotent, | |
| settling down, | |
| just means that death, | |
| comes fast around. |
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