All those haughty eyes

And the “Look, who is talking” mentalities

Have given birth to this monster

Who needs nothing but his voice within

For what’s truly true than the self?

All those promises spoken by deceitful tongues

And the “I am” philosophies they bring

Have just made this self fragile

Which walks around ground-staring

This self indeed grew smiling in the whirlwind

Still, all those tears shed deep in the night

And the “Why am I always this insufficient?” voices

Just in turn fuelled our eagle-like perception

All those pebbles we gathered during the gold digging

Have become pedals to swim us through turbulences