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in the train
the lights in my face
pass quickly
then you see a black man looking at you
and you feel a white emotion
a white man looks at the black man
and feels a black emotion
at the end of the train
there's a mother with her son
he's crying
and you've the will to throw him by the window
you really have the will but not the hate

walking in the street, far away from home
in a complete silence, the sound spits my eyes
suddenly, a homeless aproaches, he wants a coin
you, you have the will
to, to give him a granade
but, but i don't... i have the will
but, but not the hate

over the bible
just the feed the fire
but, i have my bourbon
i'll snatch sheet by sheet
living in the middle of emotions
maybe, in the smoke of your silence, dear lord
you'll understand our orphaned

and then i think that the only safe place
is my mother's grave
i have the will but not... the hate

standing in front of you... invisible forces
blow my spirit... and i can't say love
frozen spirals
arise from my drink
when the bourbon touches
the surfaces of the ice cubes
and i feel my fear arising
in frozen spirals
when the gray comes, too
why does the tipo of the bullet
always shine when the gray arrives?

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