Walking down the street.
When the whole city is dancing.
When people dance by the river, clubs, street corners.
Without a weapon in my bag.
With a slighty pain in my head.
That doesn't allow me to think, to feel.
But allows me to be a weapon.
Damn, I say next.
Give me next problem to solve.
Next strike to adapt to.
Este loco, but I'm just walking.
Down the street.