A child is born And people cry "How sweet, how innocent Just a miracle" And a baby dies That has been For 50 years inside The beggar no one talked to What an irony To whish those things No one seems to be Able to take care about It seems to me We don't want to see And i can't believe We got used to miracles "Oh the flowers In my garden What a special place No one shares" All the blossoms Along my way to Work in morning The litter brand new ways