En Tu Cocina

And she doesn't know what love is
only knows about blows and desolation.
On her face reflects the sorrow and pain
and it's because she, she...

She doesn't know that man who once enamored her
greater is the suffering than any bruise.
She takes refuge in her soul from any downpour
and it's because she, she...
in your kitchen so prisoner of your soul and your days with a
routine of a crazy woman.
Where her nap is the peace of your harmony
and at your window you scream to the sky but say it quietly
lest the abuser wakes up
every sense and every gesture of your soul.

What I would give
to exchange her fear for a star
where she could live without blows
what I would give
to stop her clock in the early morning
so she could sleep peacefully and alone.

To find herself lost in hell
when it's so warm there in winter
but she prefers a thousand times her dreams
rather than being alone in her own thoughts.