Cosas Buenas Que Parecen Malas

You didn't even let me speak
And you think I'm guilty
If you already doubted me
What's the point of explaining to you?

Poor you, heart
That doubt is your enemy
Well, you believe what they will say
And not what I tell you
They tell you about it there
Maybe it's also a lie

Good things that seem bad
They tell me not to do them
And the bad things that seem good
No one can say anything about those

Good things that seem bad
They tell me we have to save them
And the bad things that seem good
They start every morning