A Las 3 de La Mañana

It's 3 in the morning

I think it's a little late

Even so

Turn up the music, man!
Oh yeah!
Listen to me
Yes, yes, yes
No

Today, like so many early mornings
I'm awake wondering
Exactly
How much time do I have left in this world?

For a second, I review
My experiences up to now
Of a humanistic spirit
Running through the past

Time has passed
Since that last mistake
That in exchange for my freedom
I gave up a love
That with more than a broken puff lover
I embarked on a sad march
Alongside a happiness
That seems to no longer exist
Maybe I was selfish
A chauvinist
A bore

Trying to be a lover
Forgot how to be a friend
Maybe I still have enough reasons
To hurt myself
What do you achieve with that?
Could you tell me
Because you can close
The door of your house to me
But it's in vain

If her heart tells me to come in
If when she's in her room
She hugs me with her mind
And my mistakes don't exceed
What she feels
You called me a weak man
Manipulator
Creep

And asked me never again
To interfere in your path
To leave her alone
That I don't deserve her
But
Let's not talk about deserving
That's a subject I detest
How many times like a bird with
Its things, she emigrated
How many times do you say
That you cried because of me
How many times out of pain
Did you give a different version
How many times did I cry, madam
And no one saw me
Today I'm in the present
That I built myself
Today you want to erase
All the love I gave you
But she can receive 10 thousand telegrams
And she'll remain the same
If not from the man she loves

It's three in the morning
Tomorrow will be another day
That I'll wake up in the afternoon
Repeating some day
And another day will pass
In which you don't understand
That we're two crazy people
And that we depend on each other

And this is another tear that spills on paper
(Another confession of the weapon)
That life demands of me
There's no way to stay in bed
When the heart calls you
Again at 3 in the morning
And if the memory doesn't let you sleep
And you feel there are many things left to say
I write again what emanates from the heart
Again
At 3 in the morning

I wouldn't have to show myself
Reluctant to courtesy
Or give her a speech full of rudeness

I would behave differently
But it's not worth it
Anyway, I was a conflict
In your girl's life
Without manners for formal dinners or birthdays
A stranger who embittered her existence
For two years
A year with a certain kiss
That my heart felt
Because it hurt me
To be treated with hypocrisy
In those days I drank constantly
I had problems
The old lady had recently left
Little consistent actions, situations, compelling
I never stopped loving her even though I acted differently
I don't justify myself, I review
The circumstances
Now that affection is not alive
And there's only distance
Her arrogance was efficient
I feel neither hate nor love
Although she separated me from her
I also don't feel resentment
God help her
Within her ideas of tulle
And hopefully she can find him with that prince charming
And don't question her so much
With her maniacal view
If it's you who shaped her
So foolish and materialistic
Am I a model? No
My Sun doesn't get contaminated
I've lived through circumstances that you may not imagine
Just the same doctrines
Of that young man and his ego
Who made rap songs
Bombarded by his fire
It's 3 in the morning
And the same story again
Sad memories come to my mind
I won't say there was victory or defeat
At the last minute
But in future events, ask her why she cries

A stranger who embittered her life year after year

And this is another tear that spills on paper
(Another confession of the weapon)
That life demands of me
There's no way to stay in bed
When the heart calls you
Again at 3 in the morning
And if the memory doesn't let you sleep
And you feel there are many things left to say
I write again what emanates from the heart
Again
At 3 in the morning

At 3 in the morning
I
At 3 in the morning
Yes
Ha

In the end, no one learns from others' mistakes
You don't help her with those attitudes
Let her fly alone, don't turn her into
A useless thing