Dreamland


Beyond the reason, when I see

The world I live in seems to flee

At my place, there giggles the infancy

At my place, there smiles the peasancy

But, for the grown ups, nothing to share

As a matter of  fact, nothing to spare

At my place, there are no sons

None to build and fire the guns

There live the souls and my horses

I have to shut up, no one forces

No one to snivel at my ambiguity

There’s no one to blame my puerility

There is no avidity, no butter, no creams

In my dreamland, there are no dreams.

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