Gen E

They have seen them out there,

disguised as emeralds,

with their eyes uncovered,

holding the mask to pretend.

They have seen them in the reflection of a puddle,

in the alley of perdition.

A sad generation with happy pictures,

disguised in illusion,

with powdered noses and ink on the skin,

counting the minutes that passed yesterday.

In the farthest night, there you can see,

sending signals to the hateful and cruel traveler.

The most deafening voices, even I can hear them.

Tell me what you feel,

so that my dreams make sense when I wake up,

and keep in mind that even I can see you.