lost in a dream

a crippled nation

struggles to scale

a clueless place

there are those that cry

there are those that die

there are no tombstones

engraving the names of our ancestors

but you can see them

carved across the grave

galloping along the inner city

on a sunday afternoon after mass ended

without questions

without hope

disengaged lapses of memory lost

lies deep within undeciphered nightmares

fond memories go by quickly

great times die instantly

hey nene

you're now in the bronx

where villains are the same

except they wear kicks, and hoodies

watch your ass

if there is light

beaming across the skies

on the horizon

striking at the image

before its too late

and listen to a peaceful bird

chirping good news

there was an old bird

who can harmonize old rhythm

sing old songs

most of us

didn't even knew is existed ever

puts one to sleep

and every day is a gift

i heard the sounds of blistering winds anyway

it is time to go

it's time to head back to the waves

sounds one hears in the ocean

i'll give you a call

and convey to you what he has to say