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