Angel eyes
Give me your hand my friend, I don't want to help you out of the floor, not for now, I want you to pull me down and show me how cold is in the cardboard where you sleep tonight.
You're the old man in the wheelchair I pushed through the streets of Guayaquil on a hot afternoon; you gave me your name and made me your friend, but my train was fast and I leaved you somewhere in the past.
You're the 100 children I used to play in the dark streets long time ago, the forgotten, the fatherless, the working children that I promise I would return one day, and whom are still awaiting for that promise to be fulfill.
You're my phone number written on some wall in the streets, and you're the child dialing every time an emergency occurs, but now I'm too busy and too far away to run to protect you.
You're the jobless lady that I hugged a last time in an indigenous coastal village in Ecuador.
Pull me down please, I have flown high, too high, and I forgot my inner soul somewhere in the route.
You're my little friend with an smile saying goodbye at a bus terminal, my little friend that grew taller than me, but who will never see the light again with human eyes, but with angel eyes watching over to my old promises and dreams,
I want to seat low again, and have all of you around me once again, hold our hands, and together dream and work for a better world.
You're the old man in the wheelchair I pushed through the streets of Guayaquil on a hot afternoon; you gave me your name and made me your friend, but my train was fast and I leaved you somewhere in the past.
You're the 100 children I used to play in the dark streets long time ago, the forgotten, the fatherless, the working children that I promise I would return one day, and whom are still awaiting for that promise to be fulfill.
You're my phone number written on some wall in the streets, and you're the child dialing every time an emergency occurs, but now I'm too busy and too far away to run to protect you.
You're the jobless lady that I hugged a last time in an indigenous coastal village in Ecuador.
Pull me down please, I have flown high, too high, and I forgot my inner soul somewhere in the route.
You're my little friend with an smile saying goodbye at a bus terminal, my little friend that grew taller than me, but who will never see the light again with human eyes, but with angel eyes watching over to my old promises and dreams,
I want to seat low again, and have all of you around me once again, hold our hands, and together dream and work for a better world.
Comments
Post a Comment