Tu maldición
Jaime López
Your Curse
In the deep well of dreams
I usually deal with my demons
But sometimes on the edge
I challenge the ceiling in insomnia
Things can't get worse
I'm already in a coffin
I've broken seven mirrors
I'm leaving with your curse
The stairs disappear as I walk
Black cats pale when I cross paths
The palm of my hand has no lines
And the fortune tellers don't even speak to me in Russian
Things can't get worse
Your warm lips burned my brain
Your silky skin yielded without clothes
And suddenly I ended up in the cemetery
The curse is that I'm still alive
Things can't get worse
In the deep well of dreams
I usually deal with my demons
But sometimes on the edge
I challenge the ceiling in insomnia
