I chant lines,
To test if they are viable,
I tell them “I’m fine”,
’Cause to them I’ve always been the reliable

ONE

I hate others
To test their love for me
I hear in different colors
And through them I see

TWO

Branching paths, one green one red,
One leads to salvation,
The other to the dead,
The story of the migration:

THREE

Wandering wise men;
How vain to designate themselves,
Devoid of any sin,
And lacking our spells.