I met you tearing the breast of death one day
You did not know anything and it was you who carried it
Hand in hand (2)
And so you will continue without noticing your advantage
That you are the one who takes it who tames it and the shroud
Walking, walking.
You are a space that becomes
without thorn and that is lost
In the joy of becoming
but now your voice is staying
Your hand is already recording
a whole name with his teeth
Who has not seen the sadness
with its four thousand heads
Can you hear with rest
Who has not loved long
And coexisted with the strange
Of this time without backwater
I met you stuck to the wall of heaven one day
You were then carrying a guajira under your arm
And walking, walking.
Only among all we can make this a better place :)