The family batch empty and ready to be filled
Food and drink stored in old wooden draws
The entrance has it´s old yellow paint and cracks
it´s flaws and lacks
It´s a hideaway with a map toward the tropical pines
Each family tree gave branches and trunks to build the house
That lake is out of reach
but riches and leisure lie there
People moving in as we settled
typical migrants walking through the grass
toward their new house
we´d like to see ourselves as different
As we crowd makeshift tables
put up family portraits and welcome second cousins
none of their ambitions found the address
maps got burned and exit ramps were taken
We came about the lake by chance
Isn´t that the route to happiness
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