4 acessos
I ain’t superior than my country
That’s not my intention
Yet eternally its son I shall be
Lie is like fire
Devastating mercilessly
On newspapers news
On the cover of mags
Hanged with my own hair
Not to dirty their hands
Summary condemnation
Kafka’s worst process
I ain’t the master of truth
Neither are you
We don’t even belong to us
I claim mercy for accusing me
I ain’t superior than my country
That’s not my intention
Yet eternally its son I shall be