This land

Tattered soul
still restless above this land
Feet don´t rise fast enough
that anxiety would ease by running
But it´s a must, to try
because otherwise blood will stop flowing

Standing still, able to breathe
if there was a way to stop
But it´s a must, to race
just to catch a bit of air

This land doesn´t heal wounds with its nutrients
It sucks all strenght from what´s living
but never bears fruit
This land doesn´t ever end
There´s space above to run in circles forever

Lactic acids taste bitter in mouth
when talking with all the words in the world
so that press in chest would be ignored
when feet can´t get off the ground just to catch some breathe