Times goes by, but nothing is forgotten,

and the preferred time is at breakfast,

when your eyes open at the day light.

You feel like a new day has come,

and nothing exists but the beauty of the land,

which gives you work and food, and you

want to touch the texture you like,

in your hands to say tomorrow is the day,

when all the money comes to heal,

from pain waiting in vain for a mercy,

that hardly comes because you fear the lack

of relief.