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My girls are at a departmental store
for medicine since her mom's in a serious state
I'm, the poor father, fixed eyes on road
sweating rolled over the body
There's falling no rain
so late is summer to come
no answer do I have why I get wet though
I'm flooded with sweat
thinking as she's the first baby of ours
On the other side of road is from my house
through the window
I behold a man standing over there
their numbers are growing as over night
My daughter thinks the world is hers
of equal but it's a media talk
I let her go everywhere
as a free bird
but she doesn't know she's chained in every step
To live do fight, always do I say to you, my baby
Shop is a walk step
Why is she so late to come
I. the poor father, do tremble and sorriness wings in me
neighbours and all support me and say she'll come
but she doesn't come
I hear my daughter's silent cry
under the flickering of men
staying on the other road
through the window I see their numbers
reaching near the door knock
My last daughter in the house talks to a bird
A gift had I presented her on her last birthday
She and the bird now dually makes a world of theirs
I freezes and cries
world smiles and with it
I'm hid
On TV with perfume-smelt faces declares Today's Daughter day
once I see TV, then on other side of road of the shop
A good gather crowds over there
My daughter and bird sing now with unknown tunes
Nothing do I understand a single but stare at them
eyed on gloaming sheds
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