Poetry

We're like tired
pedestrians
that walk these nameless  
streets
We have no destiny
so we could blame
our failure upon
We have no excuse
for being here
You and I,
we should have known better 

This is not the land in which
flowers are born
This is not the land in which
children are born

The cities are empty
can't you see
The Wind that blows
beneath our feet
carries a newspaper with
an imprinted date long gone
All the faces we try to forget
there they are,on the last page

This is a land of wars
There we live,You and I,
My god against your god
My sword against yours
During  the day
we w ash the bandages
in the rivers that flow
carrying rust
from the factories that no longer
make bullets
At night we sleep
next to eachother and
who knows 
We may even dream the same dreams
We sometimes even make love
so not to forget what love
looks like
We sometimes even sing
Song we write ourselves
Songs of heroes
Songs of hope
Hope that someone hears us
and saves us
Tells us this war is over

You and I,
we're the whole civilization here
We write with fingers
on the walls of the abandoned houses
so our descendants could read
We write with fingers
on the walls of the abandoned homes
hoping  we could enter
the history books
or some prophets books
Something like Adam and Eve
But you are not Adam
and I am not Eve
We will have no history
for history dies here
No prophets shall be born
This is the clash of worlds
This war killed everything
it might as well killed us
Barren as we are,
You and I
we could only fight by day
and dream at night