I might as well set of to Madrid now
and have a
shock for a while
A train is setting off to the front line
Packed a luggage
way to heavy for my back.
A train is setting off to the wild side
These
books won’t make me sneeze once they’re packed.
I might as well set off to the
old house
All the memories disappearing through the cracks.
The giants are
windmills but I some times forget
The ground is too dry here and the air is
too wet
I once was a child
I was bathed, combed and fed
Now hours are
minutes
And these feelings are threats
¡Giants are Windmills!
