Quemala

He was a man who hated loneliness
He owned three flowers that he had to take care of
Nothing else, and he let himself go, poor him
He distanced himself from his treasure, didn't know how to appreciate it
He forgot about the three flowers he had to take care of
Nothing else, and he let himself be deceived, poor him
Burn it, listen to this song and burn it
He already misses the moments he couldn't have
He regrets losing what was part of him
No more, everything will return to how it was
Now I see this man looking
With eyes divided and nothing to take care of
Nothing else, for letting himself go, poor him