The day cast a light on your suffering and misery
The darkness smothers your cries
The shadow hides your tears
But the day is still here
revealing sharply your despair
protected by the fence net, they were sitting at the table on the terrace
Cracked with purple gaps from which was coming the putrid smell of death
They were sitting at the table, up there on the terrace
they were eating the remains of corpses
it was my brother, my sister, my parents, my uncles and grand-parents, they were all there,
other brothers and sisters, and friends unknown to me too:
they didn't belong to that time.

That nigth I died for ever
I died for ever
My heart has stopped beating
Leaving my blood and the dust
Blacken my veins
The mirror was reflecting the flame of the candle
like a vacant look Of which the only glow was that of the still flame
Motion less and pointed
From which the thin black smoke raises upward
Like my own soul
To the paradise of the lost children

Alan Woxx © 1989