Si Dios Me Pasa Factura

The world continues out there
with its barracks rigor,
I here doing whatever you want,
so submitted to your skin,
so submitted to your skin.

If God sends me a bill
for your sins, woman,
I'll moonlight on your waist,
with kisses for rent,
with kisses for rent.

And I find myself thinking
what I'm doing, why I came,
and I discover myself embracing
my reason in your skin.
And I find myself fighting
for the things that happen,
the news, the chaos,
the idiocy, the resentment,
and I forget kissing you.

If God sends me a bill.

Your belly in Waning Quarter,
your mouth half closed,
the Polaroid of a moment
that goes away in pure dreaming,
that goes away in pure dreaming.

You, with your curious hands,
your navel: a slice of sun;
your legs so poisonous,
like cyanide in alcohol,
like cyanide in alcohol.

And I find myself thinking
what I'm doing, why I came,
and I discover myself embracing
my reason in your skin.
And I discover myself fighting
for the things that happen,
the news, the chaos,
the idiocy, the resentment,
and I forget embracing you.

If here one lives in hiding,
if here it's necessary to lie:
an ideal world for suicides,
the ideal place to suffer,
the ideal place to suffer.

And I find myself thinking
what I'm doing, why I came,
and I discover myself embracing
my reason in your skin.
And I find myself fighting
for the things that happen,
the news, the chaos,
the idiocy, the resentment,
and I forget touching you.

If God sends me a bill.
If God sends me a bill.
If God sends me a bill