When the planet dealt with you like a dessert
From your roots, you become an alert
And toward your squads, you were crushed like a filbert
Tread the marks as manna rain on you in your desert
When the difficulties of living ravishment your future
And all your inner bruises are going through suture
From projecting, every last gaze is a blurry feature of your picture
Tread the marks as the shining sun smile on your future
When your ray of hope is blocked at the end of the tunnel
And the spring refuses to quench your thirsty soul from the funnel
From the English Channel, your train is diverted from your Chunnel
Tread the marks as the possibility thread your tunnel
When your past judge you from others
And the wind of regrets swirled you from Southers
For you lost your sisters and brothers
Tread the marks as from the best you become a druthers