Que Se Me Vá De Las Manos

It's slipping through my fingers in the smoke of the cars, summer
I forget the people who, with more or less luck, have helped me
And it's slipping through my fingers while the days keep passing
And I'm losing my cool, strange city
We'll see if today your call at my window brings me luck
Because the clocks don't sleep and in my mind their hands are swords
And it's slipping through my fingers while the days keep passing
And I'm losing my cool, strange city
It's slipping through my fingers in the smoke of the cars, summer
I forget the people who, with more or less luck, have helped me
And it's slipping through my fingers while life keeps moving on
And I'm losing my cool, strange city
We'll see if today your call at my window brings me luck
Because the clocks don't sleep and in my mind their hands are swords
And it's slipping through my fingers while life keeps moving on
And I'm losing my cool, strange city
From my past, from my past
It's slipping through my fingers, it's slipping through my fingers, it's slipping through my fingers, in...
I forget the people, it's slipping through my fingers
It's slipping through my fingers, it's slipping through my fingers, in...