In the confusion of the adult world
Built on masks and silent hypocrisy
A young voice rises against the mold
Refusing to become another lost face
Between cold streets and sleepless nights
He searches for a place
Where innocence has not been erased
A sanctuary untouched by the weight of maturity
His dream is not glory
His dream is not power
But to be a guardian
To catch those who run too close to the edge
Before they fall into the abyss of cynicism
In this shelter that rises under an infinite sky
A metaphor, a silent rebellion
A vow to protect what is still pure
To prove there is something left to save
But the years press down
And the world demands surrender
He resists, holding to authenticity
Fighting the slow suffocation of truth
It is not against time that he fights
But against the disguise it carries
Against the hollow scripts of society
To preserve the fragile heart of a child
In this shelter that rises under an infinite sky
A metaphor, a silent rebellion
A vow to protect what is still pure
To prove there is something left to save
And in the rush of time, he takes his stand
A catcher of souls, with open hands
Guarding the fragile line
Between innocence and the fall
