Papalote (part. Samtwenty)

What a technique life is, man, how ironic death can be
I got lost in synthetic drugs when I stopped seeing you
With an untamable character, the one who gets offended, as always
I who struggle so much on December twenty-fourth

It hurts, it hurts, and even if it heals and mends, I felt it in my skin
She’s poetry, I’m the poet, my fingers the paintbrush
That paints what you say, that touches what you speak
Of those who heal scars, homie, maybe

If this were reversed, I bored her on a Friday the thirteenth
Always the same name, always the same sample, always the same, always
Nothing is like before, maybe it’s just what they feel
But I can never understand her

We’re invisible, with an untamable character
And even though it hurts to say goodbye, it’s healthy
I was left hungry, my sneakers hanging from the wire
A kind memory, I live thinking of you, inevitable

But I hate to lose, I love the shine in your smile, the sparkle in your eyes
And the little one next to us, who inherited my face
But he has the shine of your eyes
Before us, this broken heart hardly heals

Hug and kiss for the photo, for those two who know me
Who fill my life
I’ve never been this high
Life tastes so good while you notice me
The day is sunny and I’m flying a kite

For those two who know me, who fill my life
I’ve never been this high
Life tastes so good while you notice me
The day is sunny and I’m flying a kite