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The Closed People

Here they come,
they're never alone,
full circles I'm always out,
they never listen when I shout.

Who do them, who do them think they are?
The last comets in the sky?
A glance of heaven's door?
The last flight to paradise?
The clothes some god wore?
The keys of happiness?
All I see is blindness.

Closed people,
closed people,
living on the steeple,
you don't know me.
You don't know how good it could be
if I had a chance to uncover
how can I be such a good friend!
Such a good lover!
And this way we all are losing in the end.

(Júlio B.)