O Profeta

The day will come
I am preparing myself because I foresaw
In the book I lend you and you don't accept the truth there
There are so many people out there clueless without defining themselves
At the hour of the scale, the weight does not reach what it should achieve

Hey Man of God
Wake up, there is still time
Behold, your time is ending
Say a prayer

Hey Man of God
Leave the incoherence
In your conference
speak of forgiveness

Those you don't know will determine if you pass or not
Forget your godfather because there is no letter of introduction there
What will influence is the good you did or failed to do
In every shelf there is an important book and you don't want to read

Perhaps the judge was the target of laughter when he passed by here
Suffering indifference, paying tribute to class or color
Perhaps you will find yourself crying the most tyrannical pain
And quietly beg for the same help you denied

Life is a school where living is the book and time the teacher
Where some are wise but until today no one has graduated
The only certainty is that the day of reckoning is coming
Prepare your soul because at the right time you will hear

The sound of an instrument that does not tune to the pitch
Will come announcing without warning the hour of reason
I am warning you, I am advising you because I want to go
You refuse to read, mistakenly believing that life is only here