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Como con piedras en los zapatos les cuesta caminar.Por mas que corren, el tiempo no se queda atrás.Miradas de cientos de almas vacías provocan fríoy se desnudan para congelar sus sentidos vivosCorrompidos por la locura de los que creen en la felicidadenvidian la amargura de los que luchan por esta capacidadOdian las cosas que no aprendieron a amarAsí te lastiman o te estan por lastimarBuscando razones para envidiarporque soluciones no son capaces de encontrarte atacan por su triste soledady acabas siendo victima de su maldad.Dentro de caretas con sonrisas esconden la verdad.Ilusas através,observan el mundo real.Confían en la falsa apariencia de su disfrazy persiguen al rebaño en busca de una rutina audazEnvueltos en siluetas apunto de estallarVen como el tiempo les marchita sin esperarOyen sus sombras ausentes gritar ya no les pueden seguir mas.Flores sobre tumbas en un paraiso infernalde muertos que no pudieron hacer sus sueños realidad,por la injusticia de no poder alcanzar una meta que quedó atrásacabaron ahogándose en tierra y soledad.
En todo lo que tienes y no tienes,En todo lo que lloras y temes,
En todo lo que miras y no ves,
En todo lo que ocultas y descubres
En todo lo que gritas y no escuchas,
En todo lo que agarras y sueltas,En todo lo que buscas y no encuentras,
Ahi es donde se esconde la felicidad
Calles de cemento construidas para caminar alejandote de la realidad,luces para poder ver en la oscuridad.
Luces que esconden la gran mentira de la vida de las sombras que por sus calles caminan en busca de una falsa felicidad.
Todo esta preparado para que solo ellos puedan sobrevivir.
Malgastando y perdiendo el tiempo en su propio mundo fantastico, convirtiendose en los creadores de la pobreza.
Lo abarcan todo y más de lo que pueden tener, y cuando ya no tienen más, entonces vuelven a inventar.
Dinero, monedas, billetes, papel y metal,
con los que los ricos dibujan caminos
en los que solo ellos pueden caminar.
Mentiras y silencio de los pobres que no pueden hablar
ya que para ello tambien necesitan billetes de papel y metal.
....oooO........................(....)... Oooo...............)../. ...(....)..............(_/.......)../..........................(_/.................oooO........................(....)... Oooo...............)../. ...(....)...............(_/.......)../..........................(_/..................oooO.........................(....)... Oooo................)../. ...(....)................(_/.......)../...........................(_/................................................
My last words: It is said that during your last breath, all your life suddenly goes through your mind and fear surrounds your heart, making you become a prisoner of an unavoidable path that leads you to a single direction. Even if you run as fast as you can, you will never be able to escape from death. I live my life, if this can be called a life, trapped in a darkness that I don't belong. I've always lived facing my destiny: Waiting for the order that will lead me to my single path, the death of someone who has been denied to live. It is said that human beings commit lots of errors. It's in their nature. What they do without doubt is to apologize, find excuses and declare that they learn from their mistakes. I'm an error, but I don't commit any. I have no choice. I'm living with my only target: Chasing lives. Me and the ones who haven't forgotten to love will explode that day that I arise from my darkness into one I've never seen. I live to burn and freeze a bumping heart. It is said that "the good" and "the evil" both follow remorse and excitement. I don't have a conscience, but one day I'll be the remorse of the one who killed. And before I would have been the progeny of this persons excitement. By fulfilling my final destination I destroy someone's physical life, just as this persons social bindings. Killing is not my decision, I don't have reasons to kill, I'm just being used for it. From deep inside this dark hole I see the eyes of the unfortunate one. His sight is lost, filled up with sadness and fear, already dead but still being alive. Here, on the other side of the bulls-eye, without senses or perception, I can anyway feel his heartbeat, which will end up being red silence of shouting pain in a matter of seconds. Everyone should be able to decide their deaths. The only thing I can do is convince the world how valuable life is by acting as an assassin without another choice. Im the consequence of their own errors. Why not thinking first before moving the index finger? The index is the finger used to point the direction and also mislead you to death when pulling the trigger. Im living in silence till i burn a world with flames. It is said that everyone has a world inside and I'm capable of destructing the ones full of life. The sound of silence breaks, everything becomes unclear, everything disappears, everything becomes dark. Emptiness is black, nothing is reflected off black, the color of death is black, black because of inexistence. Before carrying out my mission, for the ones who don't know me yet or have never seen me, my name is Bullet, that's how they call me. I exist to create inexistence. Loaded and pointing to my objective, this is my only destiny, Bang!
