Days of an eight and a zero
in a tiranny's last year
we suddenly find our hero
get outside without a tear

feeding himself only on milk
mixed with motherhood worries
covered in sheets of silk
listening to fantasy glories

when the tiranny's over
he's out of his cover
willing to discover

looking to the distance
on a fatherhood shoulder
nobody's out there is waiting
for him to be older

a so-called liberty rules
in his so-called fatherland
a fatherland of fools
reaching out their hand