So many oblique questions,
Deep, deep wounds in the tree of life.
What is the solution of the equation with billiards of x?
The one who born the mountains,
Who hangs the stars on nothing,
He has the key to all these locks,
The know how of the rocket,
To bypass the returning to the earth,
The higher force than the decay.
He wants to give to the unworthy
More than the deserving snake and the stone,
The mouth of asks he fills.

But it is not easy in the oven,
With all dust in smoke,
So little gold in a mountain of leaves,
To go with the waves in the ocean of nothingness,
To embrace the jungle instead of the way.
The Lord of the storm may save the little boat.

It is not a question of discovery but become a prey.
Too thick darkness,
So much released,
Garbage on a town drain.
How does fish survive?
Be aware of the thorns you born,
Lostness in the fruit you enjoy,
Too late for too early,
The flower wanting the fruit with its worm,
Let me out of the hook!

Just joking,
Arrows flow from my heart,
Flying fire for the encircled,
The dry forest cries.
Too many dreams stopped at the gate,
A flood built on stone,
The lightening of hate,
Shall we count back, please?