Whenever I can and go out, I can\'t help it.
My attention spills out and crowds the walls.
Some crazy person understands it.
From that old neighborhood, tapping his feet along the sidewalks, holding his mother\'s hand, he asked and assumed meanings.
In a certain sense, drawing attention in that instinctive way.
You could say I was taught to read before the teacher did.
Deciphering the code with a hunger for wisdom about that update of humanity\'s newest gossip was the driving force?
What is your unappropriable power?
The one who captures us and drives us to transcend into the inhospitable spaces of the imagination as you return in \'98
Some squander and slander their egos
Postcards of cultural poverty emancipated from their roots
Promises of forgotten loves, rusted by rain, sun, and moon
The faces and names of immortals chant and ache
Smoky portals that bring back joy with laughter in some deserts of smiles
Always prevalent in that war of bipartisan hatreds
The truth of the most precious hearts of this people speaks and says \"this is art and homeland!\"
No one deceives them because they have no purer interests than their own happiness
We soldiers of strange colors and shapes have always been criminalized
What is the limit of morality that wants to melt the projection of my pupils into faded gray?
Their codes and ours never got along, but sometimes they feign a truce
Passions of potions on the floor, inventing!
Dodging on a tile, the idea of a sad ending
Could it be that I don\'t even have a wall?
How could I fill it with pain and beauty in a bleeding rose...
May God give you double then!
Since that concept that separates you from all of us in a pile of bricks and material
Gave a frame and canvas to life itself
Doodles and works of art alike, they endure eternally in the mental projection of all who saw and will see.