A Ti

To you, I'm talking to you, to you who doesn't listen,
To you, who with what you have to spare, would give me the light to brighten the days,
To you, who plays at winning me over when you know well that I've lost everything,
To you, I'm talking to you, even if you care little about what I'm saying.

To you, I'm talking to you, even if it's a waste of time,
To you, who have been spared the severity of tears and melancholy,
If I never spoke the truth, it's because the truth was always a lie,
To you, I'm talking to you, even if you don't give a damn about what I'm saying.

To you, who lacked the courage to fight for yourself,
To you, who find solace in covering yourself with the traces of my kisses,
You have nothing left,
You have nothing left, nothing.

To you, who out of spite are thinking with your feet,
To you, who left me alone even when you were in my company,
You have nothing left,
You have nothing left, nothing.

To you, I'm talking to you, so deaf and resigned,
To you, who sleeps with your pride and lets yourself be touched by your cheap resentment,
To you, who like to overdo it, spreading blame that is only yours,
To you, I'm talking to you because there's no one else who understands what I'm saying.

To you, who lacked the courage to fight for yourself,
To you, who find solace in covering yourself with the traces of my kisses,
You have nothing left,
You have nothing left, nothing.

To you, who out of spite are thinking with your feet,
To you, who left me alone even when you were in my company,
You have nothing left,
You have nothing left, nothing.

(You have nothing left, and at least I have,
This incurable syndrome of loving you so much.)

To you, who lacked the courage to fight for yourself,
To you, who find solace in covering yourself with the traces of my kisses,
You have nothing left,
You have nothing left, nothing.