A boy running with a paper wheel
through the alley, through the street
passing by the barber shop, the book store
an unknown urge to find a door
A boy running with a paper wheel
through the farms and through the mill
a white dress that he wore
an unknown urge to find a door
A boy running with a paper wheel
inside the vision of fake and real
in all the seasons that sums four
still an unknown urge to find a door
The boy runs no more with that paper wheel
cause the bullets tore the paper and scathe his heel
the white dress no more brights white
the dust and blood covered all over his shirt
its not an unknown urge to find the door anymore
he had an urge to close the opening which breed war.
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