Como no estaba "el favorito" en linea, pues mejor me puse a escribir:


His name is not upstairs anymore
we've grown far from this
a sun in our skin,
the spoon that was feeding the moon
now is a knife on our backs,
cause they've killed al our dreams too,
and besides there's still a light shinning
we all know it haven't made for us...

While the planet keeps walking
we're moving the way he like it,
we're falling one by one on his market,
we sale lives,
we've put them a price,
we've been sold and bought our own lives,
we've been burned and eaten ourselves...