You’re gonna let the sun
always go to his rite,
It’s a sacrifice,
but he will be overall victorious
reborning to new glory.
Stretched out and watery
the wide cut of your eyes
by a vulnerable agony
that will receive forgiveness
tickling the elegant lines
of your delightful face.
Now the way is charted
Barefoot I follow,
listening to the soft crackling
of a bizarre heart
that is just a projection
of the concrete.
Only a fleeting idea the trajectory
where my compass is pointing at,
within the chaos of dissociated memories,
my own north is still you, son of the sun,
the same sun that you’ll let go
cause you know he cannot forget you…
…you are his pride.