From above

I have moved to a new neighborhood
Five minutes’ walk from the wood

Moving to the district’s ugliest block
It was the 11th-floor ś view that took the stock

From the above
Just like a mourning dove
The city is filled with brotherly love
There is no need for boxing gloves


No roadshows filled with hatred
It is only the sacred

From my living room, I can almost touch the sky
And say Ai
There is no bad guy
Only an ally
nearby
who will reply

From the above
I can remember that my unique number is eleven
I am close to heaven
And can let myself be sweven

Music; Plantas Sagradas by Nick Barbachanos & Danit