They are roads
where the stones are the mines
that are breaking bones
of the land that complains
leaving hope hopeless
The sweet voice of a child
it turns into the storm
of uncontrollable crying
of visceral pains
who does not understand innocence
The trees are crying
They are witnesses of so many
years of violence
the sea is brown
mixture of blood with the earth
But there he comes down from the mountain with hope
Mothers who see their children, and their books
for school are your sonar
But there they come down from the mountain with hope
men and children badly injured
Searching, looking for a site
to dream and love
We do not deserve oblivion.
we are the voice of the people,
says a man sitting
with blind blindfolded eyes
but he still has hope in his hands
The trees are crying
they are witnesses of so many
years of violence
the sea is brown
mixture of blood with the earth.
Only among all we can make this a better place :)