The time stayed still, day after day,
and nothing changes, if I may
break free from all these copy/paste
day after day, no fields, no hay,
no humble tractors, no beam, no force
no 4th of May, or running horse.
It's just this time when nothing changes
the rot incoming in the fences,
the garden slowly getting bigger,
the muscle slowly getting weaker.
The healing skill, once such a flame,
now being kept by Lion's Mane,
is not the same, is not the same.
The final enemy is time,
all that was said by the red mime,
but then not all of us are the same,
it is only you that I have to blame.
This silly mind, can't stay still,
from now until the final bill,
you fight against, it's pushing back,
you let it go, part of the pack.
And longing for another time,
when words we're not, nor even rhyme,
the angels used to sing and feel,
it was a bit of overkill.
Now in this house, near the sea,
I drink my Yerba Mate tea,
I try to be, to see, just me,
the real one, the strong, the free...
Are you with me?
