Otro Jueves Cobarde

Another afternoon like the others
without broken loves by chance
another Thursday of those that don't allow kisses.
It wasn't the splinters of resentment
it was cobwebs in the heart
a flower with crust in the eyes, a loveless heartbreak.

Today I can't find my nose
Today I can't even sleep
Don't sweeten the truth,
because if I'm dead it's from so much resurrection.

Another afternoon that doesn't burn, this afternoon without tomorrow's past.
Another so cowardly afternoon, this afternoon that doesn't taste apples.
Another Thursday that doesn't know how to take off even its pants.
Another Thursday that walks pitifully through the corners
this afternoon in coma 2.

Another Thursday like the others
too much Tuesday, too much the same.
I don't declare war on you, nor do you sign peace with me.
And the planet dances its gangrene,
and once again they messed up the party
the idiots in heat and the sopranos with a cough.
And today I stay silent to hear what I never knew how to tell you.
Don't perfume the truth so much
because if I'm dead it's from so much resurrection.

Another afternoon that doesn't burn, this afternoon without tomorrow's past.
Another so cowardly afternoon, this afternoon that doesn't taste apples.
Another Thursday that doesn't know how to button even its pants.
Another Thursday that walks pitifully through the corners
of this afternoon in F minor.

And today I can't find my nose,
today I can't even sleep,
don't sweeten the truth
because if I'm dead it's from so much resurrection.

Another afternoon that doesn't burn, this afternoon without tomorrow's past.
Another so cowardly afternoon, this afternoon that doesn't taste apples.
Another Thursday that doesn't know how to take off even its pants.
Another Thursday that gives pity through the corners
of this hangover without you.