The Father - Clepsydra

Think of me

when the sun will burn away

even the last of your dreams

think of me

when the moon will shine

on the last of your defeats

I remember in the shadow of poverty

the pride of a young boy

searching for the right ways

running among dust and cries

towards his way

the same one that now belongs to you

don‘t throw to the wind your story

Give it the time to be

Don‘t always turn back

Every time you do it

You loose an important part of you

follow the instinct

when it urges you

towards new stories

only give up when the game

threatens your hole existence

the roots you have inside

are a small part of history

i have lived, too

and those little smiles

a hundred years old

are now part of you

are now part of you

are now part of you

when the sky cries

soaking the undergrowth of society

real cradle of declared vices

making it the slimiest ever

men running away looking for cover

as if they were afraid

that it could melt

their faces all the same

of those too slow

only remain stripes of blood

which thinned by their own murderer

slowly disappear in black holes

of those too stupid

only remain the footprints

used as wedges under the doors

to let the speedy ones through