My pockets are so empty, but my account is so full.
I shouldn’t be stuck here, deep in the jungle where the shadows sway.
It is endlessly wet and the sounds carry on through the night.
As a fugitive, I must tempt my fate.
The law is near,
but here I have escaped for now.
The cities were too crowded,
blending in is my specialty.
The streets of Rio, where the secrets crawl,
The alleys of Medellín, like the back of my hand.
I hide from justice, but can’t live without the run.
In South America, the chase goes on,
I need to make it to Europe.
The night is my friend and my enemy.
The life wants me more than I want it at times.
The whispers of the mountains call my name,
But I know I must make it to the cold again.
There is where my pockets will be full again.
I am a fugitive, no law can ever bind.
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