En Busca Del Fuego

I have not been that backpacker traveler
But I keep in memory excursions, palpitations
And a mouth that hid a ladder
I have not flown through the skies of money
But I keep in memory the riches and magic
Of the palace in which you made me live
I have not been a hedonist and I don't speak languages
But in your embrace I knew the greatness of a homeland
I was an army waving your flag
I have not lived in Paris nor in Rome
But I discovered lips like a museum
And the desire to die here made you a traveler
There was a glass in your skin that cuts lives
I have the wound of the castaway who
Spends days in search of fire
That gives the game of wanting
There was a glass in your skin that cuts lives
I have the wound of the castaway who
Spends days in search of fire
There was a glass in your skin that cuts lives
I have the wound of the castaway who
Spends days in search of fire
That gives the game of wanting
That cuts lives
I have the wound of the castaway who
Spends days in search of fire
That gives the game of wanting