Ángeles De Piedra

She goes out as always
escaping, escaping.
Her absent gaze
the moon that isn't there, is high.
Her pale face laughs and cries
she will never return.
She knows it, she senses it
this time she crossed the door.
Sculptures without soul
she feels the earth falling.
Sculptures, white crosses
stone angels.
Climbing coldly the portrait
the expression on her face
she knows it, she senses it
she will never return.
She can't and doesn't want to return
she laughs until she cries
This time she crossed the door
she will never return.
Sculptures without soul
she feels the earth falling.
Sculptures, white crosses
stone angels.