Ella

I got tired of begging her,
I got tired of telling her
that without her I die of sorrow.
She didn't want to listen to me.
If her lips parted
it was to tell me: "I don't love you anymore".
I felt that my life
was lost in an abyss
deep and black like my luck.
I wanted to find oblivion
Jalisco style,
but those mariachis
and that tequila
made me cry.
I got tired of begging her.
With tears in my eyes
I raised my glass and toasted to her.
She couldn't despise me
if it was the last toast
of a bohemian for a queen.
The mariachis fell silent.
From my weak hand
my glass fell without me realizing.

She wanted to stay
when she saw my sadness,
but it was already written
that that night
I would lose her love.

She wanted to stay
when she saw my sadness,
but it was already written
that that night
I would lose her love.