Cómo Decirte, Cómo Contarte

The guys who kissed you
Never called themselves Alain Delon
Life was a sleeping fish
The insipid chorus of a Rock and Roll
So one day you said
Forget me, and hitchhiking to Madrid
With a project on your skin
And written on a paper, my new address
Looking for lost time
You've been sleeping with half the city
But true love didn't mess up your bed
And you got bored of promiscuity
Every night a new fling
Yesterday yoga, tarot, meditation
Today alcohol and drugs
Tomorrow aerobics and reincarnation
How to tell you
That heaven is on the ground
That good is the mirror of evil
How to tell you
That on the train of despair
If you get on, it's not so easy to get off
How to tell you
That the body is in the soul
That God pays Satan a salary
How to tell you
That no one will help you
If you don't help yourself a little more
What advice can I give you
When I can't even take care of myself
My heart is already so occupied
There's no room left for you
A friend told me
That last Tuesday he heard you scream
In the middle of the supermarket
Who will sell me a bit of authenticity
Tomorrow you go back home
Without glory or blue prince
And you'll tell your adventure
Like a youth's madness
But don't fool yourself thinking
That the way back to the fold will be the same
The tar of the road
Intoxicates more than the gentle wine of home
How to tell you
That heaven is on the ground
That good is the mirror of evil
How to tell you
That on the train of despair
If you get on, it's not so easy to get off
How to tell you
That the body is in the soul
That God pays Satan a salary
How to tell you
That no one will help you
If you don't help yourself a little more