A Pan Y Agua

Memories are made of lost women,
that's why my memory drags chains of thorns,
at night I loosen the screws,
I dream they call me Adam,
but I always wake up,
with all my ribs...

Sometimes I take much longer than I should,
fanning the broken neck of loneliness...
It would be much simpler,
if the shadows you left my love,
didn't shoot kisses caliber 22...

But,
Who will take me to my bed where is my pillow?,
today that your lips, beautiful, have me on bread and water...
We are blind sharks,
we lost a lot of blood in the sea
swimming against the wind of fate...

My doctors prescribe overdoses of forgetfulness,
and a paid vacation in that hospital,
of the wounded dolls who can't eat or sleep,
Pinochos who lost their laughter and nose...

But,
Who will take me to my bed where is my pillow?,
Today your lips, beautiful, have me on bread and water...
We are blind sharks,
we lost a lot of blood in the sea
biting the hooks of mediocrity...

But,
Who will take me to my bed where is my pillow?,
Today your lips, beautiful, have me on bread and water...
We are old boxers
and the knock out is maturing us...
Against the ropes, broken,
but I'll wait for you anyway...