� The columns are alive, the temple breathes, it knows how to suffer The wolf that wraps it in a thread of thorns It licks its skin, but it inspires it with style It exhales and smiles, dressed in envy The man in balance over the thin thread The invisible crowd that now wants to suffer It wants to see him die But the man walks on the light thread A child who sleeps and stares at the sky Not a thought or the crowd that chases It only waits for you to fall into the black The man does not feel the bruise He only knows that that is his place He left the death of God Now he fights to take his place But they came in many, without decor Sovereigns of the world, but slaves of the ego Brotherhood of kings with empires of Lego Seated in millions on the same throne Sold millions of places to sit At the funeral of Our Lord Curious children come to see The adored tomb of the father who dies But there is a detail, not a little Don't you see that they cry an empty coffin? Calm down, give us the body If Christ is dead, we want the soul If Christ is dead, we want the soul