---

The rotten in front of my eyes

Disguised in false hopes

And religious promises

That assault him without perceiving

Shedding his blood

At the feet of bastards

Being them fanatics or religious

The evil insists on proliferate

In false faces that dominated it

In case of being a destitute

And insisting on believe

In the false word troitor

Blades made for cutting his wrist

Knives that will go through his chest

Eletric wires that will lead him to suicide

Leaving the marks

Of his own creativity

Attitude, wisdom, character

Perhaps those are the paths

For the poor and the weak bastards

That never get to see

The rotten in front of your eyes