1. |
O
02:12
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|
i have nothing to do, i do more that i can
i have nowhere to go, but i don't want to stay
and when i look at the mirror i, i don't recognize myself
when i look at my face i, i see...
there's something missing
i see it's missing
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2. |
||||
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hay tantas cosas que aún me duelen, hay tantos libros que jamás me terminé
llorando en el metro, de vuelta al encierro, odio estar sola pero es que no sé bien qué hacer
no sé bien qué hacer cuando estoy mal,
no sé bien qué hacer cuando no puedo parar de llorar
hay tantas cosas que aún recuerdo, hay tantas otras que quisiera olvidar
como el olor de su pelo, o como me besaba cuando quería follar
hay tanto, tanto aquí dentro...
voy llorando en el metro, la gente me mira, los ojos abiertos, pa no derramar ni una sola gota más
hay tantas, hay tantas cosas que quisiera olvidar, pero las tengo tatuadas y me arden cuando estoy mal
llorando en la línea 10, llorando en el s-bahn, llorando también en la renfe...
con los ojos abiertos
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3. |
al final no me morí
02:48
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veo formas en las nubes,
no me acuerdo de quién eres...
veo formas en el cielo,
no me acuerdo de ti..
han pasado tantos meses,
ha llovido desde entonces,
el invierno está llegando y
no me acuerdo de ti
las mañanas son muy frías,
estoy bien por aquí,
el sol se esconde temprano
y estoy lejos...
ha pasado casi un año,
y al final no me morí
el otoño está acabando y
no me acuerdo...
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4. |
sympathy
02:26
|
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|
do you remember when i told you that i was scared of dying, that i was afraid of distance and i ended up crying
and the dogs were fighting outside, yet it was a quiet morning and you held me close, for a little while
and while i was pinned down there, your mind was somewhere else, you thought that i wouldn’t notice but it’s always the same
and it’s always the same shit i’ve dealt with this for a long time and i don’t expect sympathy just a shoulder to sleep by
the way i tear myself up, and always have something to say
whatever you might want to and i’ll pretend not to care
about the aching in my insides and the need of throwing up
i don’t need sympathy just a shoulder to cry by
all my lovers turned to demons, behind my closed eyes i still see them and i’m getting very tired, i swear that i’m restless
and it is a quiet morning but the winds are getting wilder, and you’re almost gone and i think you don’t believe
when i tell you that i can feel when you’re zoning out, i know you don’t want to be here I’ll feel guilty afterwards
but i’m not ready to leave it, because it’s always the same, i don’t expect sympathy but please don’t make me leave your bed
the way i tear myself up, you always have something to say
whatever you might want to and I’ll pretend not to care
about the aching in my insides and the need of throwing up
i don’t need sympathy just a shoulder to cry by
just a fuck and some touch
just a bed to cry on
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