Ragamuffin riddled with sainted, twisted thoughts,
Visiting your friend the rubbish dump,
With fleeting glance at dirty cradle
Where you'll slip to sleep at dawn,
If you're not put first to sleep forever
In the name of a security
Of those who can't take risks.
Boy of dreams castrated,
Spawned in the street,
Out of a reality naked and raw,
Out of morality, a tender and just law!
|