Buscando Más

Men in smooth world, suited
Of hope, honored by cyber and bread,
This convenient April,
Where the wheat grows to your customs
And the meadow loses dignity.
Oh, happiness is in the sun...
That wear justifies your stay,
Looking for new perversions.
Crossing the border on this route,
I immerse myself in the holiest hell of happiness.
Suns colliding in infertile big bang,
The pleasure of this unveiled lethargy on a divan.
Oh, happiness is in the sun...
The light carves shadow in your eyes,
Above a dock in ruins,
Always turning to this song.
The happiness is in the sun
Looking for new perversions.