La pregunta

Hay acaso un atisbo de verdad entre tantas palabras, declaraciones, discursos, anuncios, plegarias, arengas, tributos, promesas?

Existe tal vez una buena intención que de tan escondida ya no es posible verla?

Cómo creer ciegamente en figuras mesiánicas y fanáticas de sus propias alucinaciones?

Cual será la pregunta adecuada para la que exista una respuesta que no sea mentira?

Quién podrá formularla sin culpa ni segundas intenciones?

Cómo liberarnos de esta prisión sin paredes ni barrotes que corrompe los cuerpos y la almas?

Memories for all

Don't know who I am,

just passing by the highest trees

carrying mi mission with the wind

spreading the word of something coming to an end.

The only thing I know

just fly away into the night

about to leave this fragile world

becoming memories for all, memories for all.

Don't we all see for once the truth?

The pale halo shinning around the moon

when bad news are spread from mouth to mouth

round and round without an end?

Darkness following the sun,

too bright to watch, too dark to see

the figures dancing in the flames

only hollowed, empty bodies, sad reminders of ourselves.

The only thing I know

just fly away into the night

about to leave this fragile world

becoming memories for all, just memories for all.