Even though you can't fly
You can still dream
About the sweaters that
Your family bought you
Or easily think
about the grandmother
Who brought you up
With clothes together
And with innocence
You say goodbye to your
Clothes and your home
And you're going places
as your honor
leaves in the straits of decision
But it is pride pure
Pure isn't it
However, we go down the
Worst roads
And come back the best paths
Hope that the old geezer
Goads
God the hermit
God the one waiting for you back stage
Keeping an eye on your performance
Keeping away all the strangers
You meet strangers
Through God