He smells like his veins had trash,
Finally, he´ll only be some ash,
Lay down under bank´s light flash,
Wandering with his truth,
In the glass see his youth.
This unjust world is done for a few,
That man could have been you.
This cold night won´t shield the poor guy,
Dragged under a homeless sky,
Only his fancy fly up high,
Trying to join his thoughts,
And the old judgement rots.
This unjust world is born to strew,
That man could have been you.
And from “The Bridge” all ended,
His last hours for hangin´ suspended,
To this kind of life, he descended,
We already knew this history,
Never hold for us any mystery.
This unjust world is undone for a few,
That man could have been you
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