Obama and I share the same Mama,no Drama!

I wish I was a soldier,
Standind on a ground bound by the very same fate…
Bullets flying low like a wounded butterfly,hate…
a powerful tool misused, perhaps the way it should, not, maybe to the contrary

Waking up from a long sleep, caused by fatigue and fear to live a life of broken shell´
hidden from all is a way to understand truth as it lies on a colorless  spell
The force which drives a Man like Obama is the same I acquired from my Mama

a proper dictation of how things must be carried out, its an order, so be sober!
Its hard to fall asleep if one is still to awaken to the very same accustomed fate…
regardless, its said not to be a word, but I remember that time is often late…

When ´change´ arrives its like a storm, slightly better than Catrina, she is merciless,
but a storm is friendly, merely cleaning the evil thoughts cruising reckless´
on all´s path, patiently protuding searching for a point of acess

I dont want to be a soldier, no more
The fear of determining a person´s faith is a easy one…
I want to be a social, smiley, not yellow, but
admire life form all angles, being able to create rainbow shaped metaphors, deceiptful, never!

Obama and I share the same Mama,no Drama!