Morir Todavía
Héroes Del Silencio
Still Dying
The smallest things are a mystery
And the sacred feels so simple
The weeping of the cacti
Next to the grim reaper's touch
When the coyote knocked on your door
Howled unwelcome notes
The shadows snatched away
For the dream of the righteous
You can't trap
The Sun under a bell
You can't delay
The appointed hour
It could be one of those days
Your final battle
Or that we larvae become adults
And don’t fit through the keyhole
The heart passing through a tunnel
Dark as a shipwreck
Still dying and not later
Searching without remedy
You can't trap
The Sun under a bell
You can't delay
The appointed hour
The labyrinth of dreams
Where the demons of memory
Get lost
You can't trap
The Sun under a bell
You can't delay
The appointed hour
The labyrinth of dreams
Where the demons of memory
Get lost
The labyrinth of dreams
Where the demons of memory
Get lost
Of memory
Of memory
