Lights go around, this sidewalk night
Shirt-wrapped blood dripping fist wich I hold close to myself
Cutted and torn, my will be yours to hold
I'm starting to lose myself
Light go around panic nights
Shirt wrapped around my blood dripping throat
far away from my tongue
These disapointments have an order
Something has got to pay
I am the accused and the accuser in this court
Some dwell in pain wich they can't feel
and stand in the rain, demanding to avoid every dropp from now on
Your hands and voices should have destroyed us all in wich I sometimes hoped for, hopelessly
So what is your order? War?
So what is it you order? Blood?
I don't understand with innocent anger
Why this torture?
We must be somewhere else?
I want to be there, somewhere else!
I'm turning this on and off switch, over.
I wanted extra medium, not just medium
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem