Caracas Capital Of Death
Surrounded by mountains and the Guaire river,
Venezuelan capital is like the perfect postal.
Modern buildings only from 1970,
Hills full of poor brick houses.
In the sidewalks: garbage, threes and thieves,
On the streets 2003 Toyotas, 2009 Chevrolets
And buses where everybody is standing up.
In the subway is impossible to sit, move or breath.
In the morgue: corpses have no space,
The city has twenty, thirty murders per day.
Criminals are the bosses of this war.
Like a nightmare, running is not enough
To hide or to escape from Caracas
Where nobody knows if today is the last day.