Ximena

In the Spring twilight, you see the poor, huddled by the security line, it's cold for the season, sons and daughters, same lack of freedom, the big river a tide, brings a truth sought, don't need to ask why, they shiver in the lee, the city above the port, shines on sickness of being, to worry about time, if they'll be caught, in some new policy drive, there's just no reason, to tolerate the slaughter, rung like a guilty plea, every walk of sodden life, ends here with nought, some bring their wives, who could want more ?