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MaraÓon

I dream of a world that could have been
Under much older suns than these
The madman's dream
Inside of him, all around of us

We'd build this world out of moss and stone
Of salt and spice and blood on gold
And every dreadful thing found in this land

We'd pray to many gods
In many tongues made out of song
And cower like scared children when they roar

Oh! So many women yet to love
And so many men to kill
This was the pilgrim's dream
Of Independence and of warfare

Where cities made of forests thrive
And jungles full of silver call
While death creeps on four legs hugging the dark

Where trees got drunk and grew like lies
And mountains rose to build the thrones
Of princes sitting coldly under the sky

Rocked by inmense oceans
An island in the night of the world
Savage beating heart
The river creates and murders life
The breath and its gift
Infects the orb with a poison coated knife

For people there to dwell
And against all lords rebel
To side with fire
And with all oncoming storms
To live like free men
And not to die but to transform

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