waiting for the train at the bus stop

There's still people down there despite being so night. There are those who fear the dawn, but dare to go in the dark.
There are people who sleep so tired, not even a kiss makes them tremble. In the morning they'll wake up to what don't please them.
And there are those who imitate the wolves, while imitating people. There are those who fight and see the world moving forward.

And you Maria tell me where are you. Which of us missed today's rendezvous. Which of us saw the night until dawn.
It's late, Maria. Everyone has spent hours being mismatched, as waiting for the train at the bus stop.

There's still people down there despite being so late. There are those who shine in the dark, and take cover from daytime.
There are those who run without arms, to the arms that accept them. And their arms grow together, and lay down intertwined.
And the morning brings other arms, also together otherwise. Of those who fight, and fighting they transform themselves.

There's still people passing down there, and a wandering dream. Comes knocking at my door and says the uprising password.
Gonna plant it in the sun, until it calms down. It's a dream that awakened, worth well who dreams it.
Down there, I said already, what does it have to do with me? And yet I startle if someone knocks on my door.

There's still people down there, and a familiar face, is opening in the dark, a light as a wound.
As a light running after the course of a comet. And I see valleys and ditches, at the bottom of a gutter.
There's still people passing down there. And a familiar face, is setting all night a fire by the avenue.

It's you, Maria? I know, I know it's you. Which of us missed today's rendezvous. Which of us saw the night until dawn.
It's late, Maria. Everyone has spent hours being mismatched, as waiting for the train, at the bus stop.