Sons of adventure

Sons of the sun
Father searching the empty market
Young eyes still seeing abundance
The smooth panels of your boxlike houses
above the manicured lawns each blade of grass glistening
new born babies

Screen connected, something special to eat
In your house
 From the heart of a father
a generation forms
No half empty supermarket can stop them
They own the world

Not addicted to screens or dull convention
Questioning and self conditioning
Learning the true value and forgetting complaint
Dependence is not worn by them
only magnificent expansions, motives of glory

Sons of this whole new attempt
so automatic
From where strong arms and minds of struggle crossed the swamps
And landed shocked and exhausted like wet rats after a flood
optimistic within the city limits
Arriving with the new morning with a tool to make it shine brighter

Forward with full force
take full credit