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What can I say, if I have nothing,
I'm just a stone in the road,
there's not even mould on me, where I come from,
For to roll, was my life, my destiny.
In continuous drifting was my fate,
without knowing where to go or any goal,
without having a friend or a neighbour
To give me a reason for my fortune.
It was in me, in me, the suffering, the suffering,
folded in pain, of which I was a prisoner,
Suffering in my path this torment,
suffering in the pain I was immersed in.
I culminated the walk almost dying,
Life marked me with its torture,
suffering without strength and dying,
I wanted my bitterness to culminate.
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