They did not recognize me in the shadows
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That suck away my color in this Passport
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And to them my wound was an exhibit
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For a tourist Who loves to collect photographs
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They did not recognize me,
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Ah . . . Don't leave
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The palm of my hand without the sun
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Because the trees recognize me
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All the songs of the rain recognize me
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Dont' leave me pale like the moon!
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***
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All the birds that followed my palm
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To the door of the distant airport
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All the wheatfields
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All the prisons
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All the white tombstones
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All the barbed boundaries
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All the waving handkerchiefs
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All the eyes
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were with me,
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But they dropped them from my passport
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***
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Stripped of my name and identity?
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On a soil I nourished with my own hands?
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Today Job cried out
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Filling the sky:
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Don't make an example of me again!
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Oh, gentlemen, Prophets,
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Don't ask the trees for their names
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Don't ask the valleys who their mother is
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From my forehead bursts the sword of light
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And from my hand springs the water of the river
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All the hearts of the people are my identity
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So take away my passport! |