Source
Life is hard without money,
a burden that weighs down, a black path.
The cold seeps into the wounded soul,
and hope, withers life.
In deserted streets, the echo resounds,
A silent cry, a sorrow that sounds.
The days drag by, time slows down,
and the sun in its brightness, looks like a scene.
No one has a case, just pure unhappiness,
laughter fades, sadness nestles.
A little to help you, a sincere gesture,
But today I survive, in a whole world.
Few have pure souls, open-hearted,
To offer their hand, to calm the wind.
Money does not save, but sometimes it gives peace,
and in the sincere embrace, there is true truth.