Casa de Vidrio
Bronco
Glass House
On top of a mountain
Full of sorrows crying I live,
In a little house that I made
With empty wine bottles,
With a floor of bottle caps
And cigarette butts.
Just by looking at the bottles
Tears and cold grip me,
Because they no longer have wine
Nor do I have hopes of your affection,
My house has no doors
No roof, just weariness.
On top of the mountain
In my glass house,
I will die alone
For your love and for the wine,
For not seeing you on the arm
Of the one who bought your affection.
Just by looking at the bottles
Tears and cold grip me,
Because they no longer have wine
Nor do I have hopes of your affection,
My house has no doors
No roof, just weariness.
On top of the mountain
In my glass house,
I will die alone
For your love and for the wine,
For not seeing you on the arm
Of the one who bought your affection.
For not seeing you on the arm
Of the one who bought your affection.
