Letras
All the flowers bloom in grace,
So fall won't feel out of place,
He lets his leaves fall to the ground,
When springtime starts to come around.
Then light says,
"Come and stand by me,
He says, "Your friends are too many"
And drifts toward the dark,
Where no one's near and none embark.
His dreams are small,
Too small to shout,
They wouldn't fill a fig seed out,
No hunger drives, no ruthless scheme,
Not fit to walk life's high-wire dream.
While others toast and raise their glass,
He holds no grudge,
Lets envy pass,
Just gives his usual quiet stare,
While others claw for more to share.
He stays silent,
Though his tongue is sharp and quick,
Lets others snatch the final pick.
His dreams are small,
Too small to shout,
They wouldn't fill a fig seed out,
No hunger drives, no ruthless scheme,
Not fit to walk life's high-wire dream.
He turns inward,
Never strikes out loud,
Not meant to stand inside the crowd,
Only one ever bruised,
Was Uncle Devil, always confused,
Still whispers in his ear:
"You're just an accessory here,
Standing at the edge of life, my dear".
His dreams are small,
Too small to shout,
They wouldn't fill a fig seed out,
No hunger drives, no ruthless scheme,
Not fit to walk life's high-wire dream.
Uncle Devil waits below,
Just one push and down he'll go,
Devil knows his soul too well, too deep,
While others chase their heaven's keep,
But ours won't harm, won't curse or scream,
He takes the fire, just to keep the peace.
His dreams are small,
Too small to shout,
They wouldn't fill a fig seed out,
No hunger drives, no ruthless scheme,
Not fit to walk life's high-wire dream.