Angeles Desangelados

Little leaves are growing
On the trees
Under the rains of the season
Little by little each one
Finds its place,
Strange ghosts to me

Fallen angels will be born
In your heart
How many times will they brush against infinity
In your heart

Wings are growing, smiling
Like angels
For the chosen ones of love
They fly to the seventh heaven
Then they burn
Like dry hay of pleasure

Fallen angels will be born
In your heart
How many times will they brush against infinity
In your heart

Fallen angels...