La maté porque era mía

The wood has caught me
I killed my girlfriend
Don't take pictures
I have a bloody body.
I was a very decent boy
She was a prostitute
She won't use the bed anymore
Now she sleeps in a tomb.
They took me to the dungeon
And they beat me up
They left my body broken
My brain doesn't work.
And right now I don't understand anything
I only see journalists
Who give me some money
To appear in their magazines.
What a nerve, what a nerve
A lot of cheek, a lot of cheek
I don't want your cover
Sensationalist journalist.
I don't want you to write lies
With her blood
I killed her because I loved her
I killed her because she was mine.