Marta

Marta saw green eyes and a sun marked on her head.
With her white convertible she drives through the city.
Flowers grow where she steps, she's the queen of the place.

She liked to fly, she liked to play, disconnect from you.
Long ago she flew, without saying goodbye to me.

But Marta doesn't say anything anymore, because there's nothing more she can say.
She took my colorful paintings, left me stranded in this strange world. (repeat)

Marta, through Madrid, a goblin with a sad look;
a mirror for the loneliness that always follows her.
She will never reach 50 and you don't want to find out,
that anyway, it was hard for her to go on.

She liked to fly, she liked to play

But Marta doesn't say anything anymore, because there's nothing more she can say.
She took my colorful paintings, left me stranded in this strange world. (repeat)

But Marta doesn't say anything anymore, because there's nothing more she can say.
She took my colorful paintings, left me stranded in this strange world.

Marta or Marta, Marta, Marta