It has been a long time since the new venue had begun, at least could breath again and it was not the ocean or the warm coast of the sea, neither a river or a lake whom made me flow it was perhaps the intance of being alone, ignated to surface this whole and yet without your air, the waters keep navigating down were the living starts father.

 Maybe I could hold my body, suspended in a rock, its not confortable really. Mundane, hard and subtly moving, solid to its own figure but not for those who seek shelter and confort, all this rock aside the water broad me to feel at ease with whom I'm to sing, if before tragedy there was a sweet voice and this voice emerges to be again, simply, let me be.

You have not count on me,

but I'm the mother to all sirens without your knowlledge,

let me be for my daugthers to swim wildering free,

there is no pain to take, no substance but this ongoing waves,

and let me take you to the end of the river and sailors, 

let me sing to the marines.

You have not count on me,

as your muse of sweet song, but tragedy am not to follow you

or is it you my God whom I'm singing for, you are not the one

who makes me surface for some oxygen to breath again.

You have not count on me,

and I will return in an endless bath you cant touch, fishy tails,

splashing me away to embrace the deepths of 

my beautiful sirens. 

You have not count on me,

so let me go and be for my daugthers, the Ocean is great, 

the Mediterranean and the Caribian, have you seen us cry or sing

when we are already in bliss without your counting. 

Father, Zeus,... please let me go, you are not my God.