Now think of a house, not an iota of sunlight
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There's a man inside and nobody knows he's alive
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Neither poetry nor novels nor tobacco nor smoke
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One does not wipe his tears, a 'blasphemous' prayer
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He got up, his gun hidden in his waist
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He's out of his mind, someone stole it from his hand
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His eyes, aching from writing and thinking, are tired
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But his only word is death, his hands are fear
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He said time goes by and laughed while looking out the window.
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While tape-recording a life he consumed line by line
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Now he has turned his head to this world, at the very bottom
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In the same language as a spider crawling on the ceiling
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Darkness and rain cloud accompanied his loneliness
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He slept, forgetting his childhood in dirty gardens
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It was a peace left over from the old Sunday days.
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When an old road fell, your knees bled
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Life was a scar on his face he hid with laughter
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A goldfinch in a cage, which he fed when he returned from school.
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The father she's been waiting for, the child she rooted on the street
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Life is the dream he has never seen...
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I woke up and there was no more tenth anniversary marches
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Neighborhood matches with a soda under the station
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The father that life is waiting for, the child he rooted in the street
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Life is the dream he has never seen...
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Now imagine a dream, my friend, where there is no darkness
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You didn't break away from all the values in my past
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What eyes see and ears hear
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It's not happiness, nobody asks an account
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Longing with fearless eyes
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Those poetic words that do not contain a single curse
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A deck that plays peacefully and does not wrinkle
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Houses that do not collapse where no screams are heard
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Your peaceful childhood in a pictured painting
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No sadness, smile was a must with your family
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If the streets I ran were in place today
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Your eyes will weep, you say, in your hand, a ton and a thousand buckets
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Knees that don't get tired and don't get tired when you run
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The same childish composition that you memorized in your language
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The same longing you've had from yesterday to today
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Everything from your family is still the same favorite
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Solitude is a dream that is not wanted
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A dream that won't end until the flowers wither
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A dream that won't fade unless your colors are erased
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And imagine a dream, a dream in eternity
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Life is also a dream as you said maybe
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It's a dream like you're dreaming that needs to be lived
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A dream if it doesn't happen in the direction you want
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No need for nightmares, open your eyes and wake up (get up!)
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But if something can be said to me
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Let me hear you say
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Or even if they are interpreters of what we feel
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Even if they are not, I am deaf
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To those who are caught between what he saw and what happened.
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They make me think of a dream, make me feel indecisive
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We feel a world, not a dream, subject to change
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The world in my eyes is actually a dream |