in the quagmire of the new times we wallow
whole flock
least
mud men cursed constantly throwing mud
us slyly, brazenly
in mechanical ritual as everything in this quagmire
new
times where we remove all the year
between negligence, ignorance and mud
not daring to avoid
not even imagine him as the lumpy mud
remains occluded our eyes, our mouth and ears
senses there is no horizon or
in the quagmire of the new era where the doctrine is
hurting
and crazy almost all
aspiration is to become a man to constantly throwing mud mud
maliciously
, boldly
until a full moon night ideas
finally becomes
leave honest fear and madness and move
dignity in
silver bullet to kill this pack that still exists in the mud
new
times where reality is delusion and bone
just protect fragile clay kaolin
souls doomed to a fate murky
where every last hope before thrive
know your purpose.
