The dust and the smoke leave a memory of the revolution ever since this place was once involved.

Burnt flags were lying on the ground, after a time when we were choosing who to be, what we are now.

Quiet songs sang from the heart, before everything was tarred apart.

A never ending battle between a wish that we once had and the mind that was telling us to beware.

A men standing on the edge of times, with his eyes constantly searching for a place to rest for a lifetime.

People screaming and crying for their beloved ones, the ones who wanted to see the end, but the’re now longing for a start.

This is what I know call home, what I have buried in my soul .

My little hiding place, the place I cannot only love, but treasure the most.

At the same time there’s a place where some say that it has empty spaces and mounstrous voices, just wounds that were never healed.

Forgotten wishes are made of beautiful dreams, by the ones who belived in these signs, these little angel wings.

What I know is not what I thought, what I saw. This city is rising from up to below of everything I used to say it’s mine, it’s home.