Marcopolo about March.

Life is about looking up

Life is about looking up

Do you remember the first time you open your eyes when you was first born?

What did you see?

Nobody would remember

his first sight was maybe the ceiling of his bedroom,

and as time is crawling

he started to see playground’s skies

when he rolls the kite up sitting in the sun

when he runs search for sand-castles melted in each waves

when he falls fracture own foot in his first soccer match

when he is hospitalized and all he sees are nothing but ceiling

And now time is walking

The best dusk he experiences are the one when he comes home from school

and so the heavy rain in a grumpy night

as grumpy as his thought of umbrella that left behind his ex-lover

and a rainbow somewhere

over another girl, smiling after their gentle kiss

Shit, now time is running

as he try to fulfills all his dreams

but time won’t be kind

and keep on running with the best shoes in the industries

slow down your pace, time!

yet he is panting in front of her face

trying to genuinely say i love you but things get so uncomfortable in heat

Look up, hey look up,

as your universe is keep expanding; exploding

from your room’s ceiling to the galaxies

waiting you to explore

and yet you sit here ticking

thinking you’re running out of time

Look up, oh look up,

life might not be only another v-lookup formula on your desk

Say hi to Marcopolo,

your hidden soul screaming for travel.

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