Mala Patada

I learned not to trust by taking stabs
There are kisses that hurt more than a bad kick
When dance is confused with the witch's Sabbath
And there's no difference between a smile and a slap

At night in the darkness
The ghosts scream your name
It's better standing alone without you
Than walking arm in arm with the air

Like the thoughts of someone who never said anything
I was a raindrop sliding down the window
A concert for the deaf where looks spoke
Silence hurts more than a sharp blade

And the glass broke amidst kicks
Now the drops can dance
While the witches burn

And the glass broke amidst kicks
Now the drops can dance
While the witches burn

I learned not to stumble remembering the footsteps
There are steps that lead to dark dead-end streets
You were the void in the emptiness left by nothingness
The flaw a typo, that unfinished sentence

In the darkness of night
There are no more ghosts or names heard
It's better standing alone without you
Than walking arm in arm with the air

And the glass broke amidst kicks
Now the drops can dance
While the witches burn

And the glass broke amidst kicks
Now the drops can dance
While the witches burn