who knows where I will arrive
maybe one day I will write you words of love, maybe not
who knows
who knows what kind of heaven will protect me
who knows what clods of mud I will trample on
who knows
what do I want from life ?
a hug
a smile
just one more day
a job
a place to call home
anything
anything
a better life
it is time to migrate
it is time to migrate!
may be the last thing I do under these suburban skies,
but I have a dream made of smiles hugs and bread to reach
who knows if and where I will arrive
may be the last thing
but I will go!
Marco Bo
http://cantidallaperiferiadelmondo.blogspot.it/2015/06/migranti-chissa-dove-arrivero.html
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