I remember streets different from here
I remember voices that are no longer there
Other boys were running away
And often they never came back here
In freedom it's not just
an idea
I look surprised and say it's already
mine I think of the boys who went away
And the whole world is a factory And the men who speak
They can't confuse or hide our freedom
Mine has been a whole generation dedicated to the guitar
We grew up on it and around it like climbers
We have adorned it with all the colors
It has always had the best place
in the bedroom, exposed
It is always the safest place in the trunk
Poets and guitarists were the protagonists of our night discussions
Now we spent nights talking about poets
It's incredible,
but it's true
It's the secret of the guitar
This
And it was also very aggregate,
as we say today
It was very useful, for example,
with the girls
Although
it's always and only to attack