Barón Rampante

Wandering through the forests
Crying, shattered
Rejecting the food
I don't want snails
With great sobs
Like a newborn
The birds came
That used to flee from me.

Now I understand
But it's already too late
And I'm going crazy
And she also suffers
From her insatiable obsession to make
Love grow.

And I
Hadn't understood anything
Never touching the ground
Desperate to the point of losing her.

Wandering through the forests
Crying, shattered
Rejecting the food
I don't want snails, no, not me
Not in your garden, not in mine.

If you touch the ground once
With a foot
You become
The last of the slaves
Understood.