The Son

Let me tell you a story about a son
Who thought he was the one

Lived his life in the cold , had no needs
Just to satisfy other people greeds

Everyone took advantage of his innocence
Taking all they could without expense

Then one day come a man who returned the son help
The unknown man woke something never felt

The poor son saw he was not the one
He was merely another truly man

He become so sad for living such a lie
That suddenly he begun to die

All his life he had help someone to improve
But no one was there to claim his body

He was thrown in a deep grave
With no tumbstone in wich to carve his name

But a big oak tree grown in a week
Marks the spot in wich we should weep

@By me algures entre 1995 e 1997