Aquel Chico

Gray Thursday morning, I remember old times, nostalgia is what I feel, something moves me... memories come back to me, the schoolyard, the high school, and a teenager far from being an adult. Many harsh winters distance me from that guy, his only concern, chasing girls... I recorded an album, something he dreamed of, but I bet he was much happier, I don't know... everything was easier for that rebellious, idealistic but still very green guy... everything was bigger, I don't know if you understand me, he got excited about nothing, nothing surprises me anymore. And although he hesitated on insignificant details, he always had clear the important things... stubborn, never followed advice, he stumbled and fell, that's how he learned. A little troublemaker, more of a bad student, often left his seat vacant in class. The street was his other school, with urban art as his subject, he painted his nickname, marker in hand. There was always a party, even if he had no money, and he only knew the dark side from afar. If he came home drunk, he tried to hide it, how innocent! His parents were never fools... Chorus: you can't help it, you always look to the past, and although it may seem the same, everything has changed (repeat). Weekend, craving to go out, partying, crazy to go downtown in search of excitement. He didn't always manage to gather enough money, so nothing, the sketches, be alert, and a big drinking session. With his people in the park drinking... making noise... how exciting to escape from a police car. First conflicts with the officers... green or blue, almost all incompetent. That impulsive guy acted without thinking, he sinned by getting involved in other people's problems. For not holding his tongue, he got into trouble, he couldn't stay silent if something wasn't fair. How many stories, known everywhere. How much importance he gave to sad enemies... stupid wars now sound funny, I don't know how, but always involved in trouble. How many girls' lips he kissed, how many he deceived. Famous heart-stealing bastard. They were princesses of the weekend fairy tale, queens of the park or the bar, enjoying without ending up in bed. Proud macho, and what did it matter to look good, of course... 'give me your number... your friend's too!' and behind his tough attitude, there was a sensitive being, perhaps too good and somewhat sensitive. Chorus. Nervous, hyperactive, couldn't stand still. Barely slept and never tired, video games filled his nights daily, days didn't exist, the calendar didn't matter. Always checking the clock, early at home or grounded, how many tantrums, sometimes he felt tied down, what irony, right? you might find it unbelievable, nowadays I envy him, I dream of being so free. How much excitement, how many things he believed in... life is tough, but he still didn't know. And when he opened his eyes, everything was a different color, today I feel that any past time was better. That happy guy had to grow up fast, the wind and storms erased his smile. I don't really know the reason... I don't know why stepping into old places makes my heart ache. I can't help but look back, and although it may seem like it, nothing is the same (nothing), I sense a different atmosphere, different scents, where did all those people go? (where?) we all feel melancholy at some point... three whiskeys, a fling, and goodbye to nonsense! You can't help it, you always look to the past, and although it may seem the same... everything has changed. You won't be able to recover what time has stolen from you, all that's left is to remember, today that the day is cloudy...