Youth is dead,
craved static in the cradle hands tied,
feet drown in cement.
growing up when you already old.
save the sparks from the war.
hands are closed, holding the nothing of nothing.
lack of motion, the need for spirit.
we’re too weak.
we live the myth.
save the sparks from the war.
lack of motion, the need for spirit.
let it rain to dilute the pictures.
gaizkez