La Plegaria Del Cuchillo

Every word / every promised dream
die in me / I prefer to speak to you with my skin
despite the ice

Pearl of silence / I left the door open for you
and now a whore / tries to make me react
take me to hell

Everything moves / like lit octopuses
I just watch / and my fever returns to you
March is in your eyes

And among the skirts / of that club
the perfume of its light escapes / while Malena
poisons herself with passion

Your breath prays / the knife's prayer
drink the blood / of this loser Dandy
who died on your lips

I searched for meaning / in the traces of punishment
in the wounds of your skin / my most faithful day

The bottle is bad company / I swore you would be mine
even though the glass / slips down my temple

Once again walking / through the city
drinking touched the heart
I felt your skin / brushing against me
and I laughed