En la noche de la muerte del padre celestial.
Maldita sea, del tamaño de un campo de fútbol.
Y la ternura de esa sonrisa sincera.
Sí, el sueño simplemente no rima...
Y las estrellas jugarán en la nieve.
Con otro y en la alegría de la angustia.
Aquí crece la escarcha,
Que el Espíritu nos consuele.
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Que me importa.
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Exactly, and it will be how we enter the universe as a multiplanotary population.
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