Macabre smiles that are hidden day by day,
like the shadows in the dark,
as souls of low astral,
that wander in solitude,
through the ways of the grave,
maybe you have loose screws in your head,
but everything is reality,
take it easy,
just look for natural light,
even that light that shines in the darkness of winter,
in search of the longing for a caress announced in the restlessness of the dream,
where the dawn destroys all traces of evil,
and of peace and love will fill us,
through windmills,
during the time of the sound of silence,
where those macabre laughs are erased by a beam of light.
By Leonardo Blanco (
