The last sparrow in town,
Closed its grey wings at twilight
I whispered my song
In a southern park, in a far southern park,

Then we will be the silence of a prayer
Only naming what is not there.
We will be the silence of a prayer
Only naming what is not there.

Where are we, tell me my girl
With your sweet smile
In the short afternoons of winter and shyness
With our dreams in the skin of childhood?
With our dreams in the skin of childhood?

Where are we, tell me my girl,
Crowded with absences?
cll the streets that today teach without mercy
That returning does not always mean coming back...
To live is to go somewhere
To live is to go somewhere in time