There is a man I call a friend of mine of all the ages,
He is the martyr of my life and comes with many names and faces,
Mind you, when we met I did not care for his smug indifference,
There was a painful set of twins within our unsaid resemblance.
Nonetheless we had a connection,
Not with words, with a common affliction,
We were sleeping man.
On the road to be reconciled, the spirit goes with a weak mind,
It is not my job to make you feel right, they are not the reason you never smile.
So we lay beneath the singing trees and shady branches,
Blaming all the world for never granting second chances,
We remember when the dream we had became a nuisance,
Whatever shines in me it shines in you and we could use it.
Some time soon I will make a commitment,
To forgive you and end the resentment,
Of the sleeping man.
On the road to be reconciled, the spirit goes with a weak mind,
You be the ears and I will be the eyes to be awake for the first time.
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