After time, people will say, in those years,
we lost the meaning of we,
we lost the sense of universality found ourselves prisoners into ego,
in a long soliloquy and the infinite life reduced to i,
war inside us, we fight inside us,
the birds of prey scream and their beaks hurt us but through the fog,
the stars, the makers of wandering dream
with their accumulated wisdom they're sending us a mutiny message
go on and on the tragic crossing the owl flies at night.
