Guardian Angel
Science bent my faithful lens to doubt
The disclosure of the mystic
(Anything that comes out his mouth
Violates what is pragmatic)
Until my lens is corrected
By almost drowning in the sea
On a large boulder Judas pushed
Me to what I did not agree
By not sinking in depth of death
After being hit by big fruits
On the head and near out of breath
In death for my soul someone loots
By near striking a buffalo
On the road by my motorbike
The rain mists on my helmet grew
Brake! The road wiggled or the spike?
As I go by the bamboo grass
Its leaves start to sway and rustle
As though the wind is there to pass
From the thrust of guardian angel
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