The portrait of progress is me
Waiting in the house, forever and ever
Those who leave go somewhere, it’s their turn, they were called.
When they come back they throw punches and kicks
To the boxes with food that is not enough for everyone.
They are the laughter of the children their parents met
Where deep is the path that leads to nothingness.
And the rest of the beings now hang from their hands
On the edge of oblivion the herd is fed.
The sky is hungry and the gods are awake
Others die at the side of the road, far from our gaze
And they burn in the fire, far from their children, from their mothers
There are no witnesses, but thorns buried in the ground.
But the boss greets me, the morning coffee
And the mold in the air tickles in the throat.
The lady in the subway feels like throwing herself on the rails
But now there are more than twenty between her and the edge
But you can follow your way, old friend or acquaintance
Let your steps echo in mystical realms
And your sleeping eye now reveal souls in stereo
Inside this bag of stars where nothing stays
Everything passes and is annihilated, transformed and bleeding
And don’t forget, the hours of the Earth are accounted for.