He’s twenty years old, he looks at
His long hair which so much effort took 〈to grow〉
Taking the diary full of fear
He finds his own name; he raffled
He glances a last time
“My little girl, it will take time for me to come back”
“While you wait, I will tell you”
Lost we are, that’s reality
Maybe one day it will be your turn to pay
For this mistake
“I don’t want to live this!”
No, I wasn’t invited to come here
Poor boy, he cries in a corner
The wind whispers an old song
That reminds him of his bedroom
“Here, tough men are made, just like me!”
Tough just like me
Lost we are, that’s reality
Maybe one day it will be your turn to pay
For this mistake
He has spent one year serving the honor
Cleaning latrines, crying sweat
Biting bullets
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