Tu Mejor Canción

I pray. Now I pray.
On Sunday mornings,
I pray and pray.
I pray. Now I pray.
Every night when the moon looks at us,
with tears in my eyes, I pray.
I pray to any god
willing to listen.
I pray to any god
who's ready to help
so the rich stop being so rich,
and the poor stop being so poor.
Let's spread kindness
in tiny little bits
so no one is left without
their piece of cake.
And then your heart
will sing its best song,
and if you're scared...
Pray. So pray.
On Sunday mornings, pray.
Pray. So pray.
Every night when the moon looks at you,
with tears in your eyes, pray.
So that the weapons get stuck,
and the high-ranking terror
fall down their steep stairs
and lose their minds.
Let them forget who they are,
and turn into chickens
flying aimlessly.
From corner to corner.
From nook to nook.
Let's spread kindness
in tiny little bits
so no one is left without
their piece of cake.
And then your heart
will sing its best song,
and if fear still lingers...
So that the
big fat companies slim down.
Taking care of your figure
with a diet
is super interesting.
And the skinny family
in the distance on the hill,
keeps making bracelets
to feed their
little kids.
Let's spread kindness
in tiny little bits
so no one is left without
their piece of cake.
And then your heart
will sing its best song,
and if you're still scared...
I pray. So I pray.
Every morning of this life
excessively gone, I pray.
I pray. So I pray.
Every night,
when the moon looks at us
scared and vulnerable,
then I pray.