Man with a Bronze Guitar

Forty days of walking in the desert,
The sun is giving meaning to every drop of water.
His diamonds shine on in the sky,
At the end of times he’ll take a boat

and sail to the horizon lighting a cigar,
a man with a bronze guitar.

A lonely tree in an endless forest,

Waiting to be burned by the mighty infernal fire.

His Childhood views belong now to the past,

He tries to live the day that the green has turned to black,

the mountain scar,

he is a man with a bronze guitar.

Fighting, birds along with lions,

Swimming by the shore trying to get some water.

Winds of earth have turned against the eagles,

As that war’s erupting he’s lying on the grass

staring at his star, a man with a bronze guitar.

Houses are burning, and he drinks coffee

People are dying, and he is still young

His world is under a wrong command

But he don’t care cause hiss song has sung

The ground is cracking beneath his feet

The air is toxic because of his car

The trees are burning in front of his eyes

But he… he’s just a man with a bronze guitar.

Yes he… he’s just a man with a bronze guitar.

Studying the ageless stones and boulders,

Searching for shadows they are pieces of survival.

Tiny stones of every shape and color,

He doesn’t care of Mountain view

though it doesn’t seem so far

Who am I to judge?

I am a man with a bronze guitar.