The faces of a mirror ripple like stirred water.
My hand pushed through the silver to touch the face of God.
From my mouth you’re always drawing dark sayings from of old.
I’m talking like my father, and bearing my brother’s load.
I’ll tell the truth to children, not dress it up in white.
The house is one divided, the clock can’t be turned back.
Come save the weak and needy.
Give justice to the weary.
The wanderer is bleary-eyed.
The sunlight has grown cold.
This ones for the prisoner.
You hear his lonely sigh.
I want my white stone.
Tell me my name.

INVIA LE CORREZIONI