Retorciendo Palabras
Fangoria
Twisting Words
No, don't pretend to be right, don't come asking for forgiveness,
don't tell me it was a mistake that you're sorry.
After all, what good is an ideal future, built on illegal ground,
a past that makes me doubt the present.
And I, defend myself by attacking you like this, twisting words of love,
trying to make them mean what I don't dare to say.
And I, surprise myself by saying yes, twisting words of love,
trying to make them do for me what I can no longer do.
No, don't invent a new color, transparent like a betrayal,
camouflage for an illusion of my mind.
Finally, millennia are a decimal, a fleeting piece of time,
something ephemeral and little more without any value.
The millennia are a decimal, a sum of time figures no more,
new voices present future past that keep twisting words of love,
building buildings that won't last, a design of something fleeting,
architects of phrases that make me doubt and try to tell me I don't know what I want.
And I, defend myself by attacking you like this, twisting words of love,
trying to make them mean what I don't dare to say.
And I, surprise myself by saying yes, twisting words of love,
trying to make them do for me what I can no longer do.
Building buildings that won't last, a design of something fleeting,
architects of phrases that make me doubt and try to tell me I don't know what I want.
