Mi Otro Lado

The streets of ash, something twisted
And fields of desolation
And cotton moons wet with tears
And cemeteries of illusion that in the morning
Hurt me
When they rise to hurt me with their voice
Under my feet fields of nothing
From the emptiness of your skin
And mornings that are hurting me
And hundreds of roads asking me
Not to stop running
But I want to empty myself until there is no blood left
What remains of your love
Is what has overcome my fear of saying goodbye
That chains me in the insomnia of your kisses
And stabs my heart, hardened like a winter flower
Like the memory that draws a song
Under my feet fields of nothing
From the emptiness of your skin
And mornings that are hurting me
And hundreds of roads asking me
Not to stop running
But I want to empty myself until there is no blood left