Concordias de Papel

I guard scars not healed to burn
Knowing it's possible they'll come back without calling
But I don't think of trenches, cannons,
Grenades or rifles
I renounce more defenses, living in an eternal April

I scream if they scream at me, I don't hide my voice
Selling love to the earth and raw flesh for the fierce
Those who think others, another or I should be silent
I challenge the will that obliges me to worship

I no longer want paper agreements
Nor fatal revolts without a ship
Nor panegyrics after humiliation
Nor palliatives instead of cures
No more horse's reins
Nor days of warmth, nor moons of gall
Nor military in adoration
Nor obeying more silences

I remember days of war with guilt and forgiveness
On my knees, being cannon fodder
But I gave skin to the wolf, confessed, read, resurrected
I have no other principle than to kill before I die