Costuras
Los Tipitos
Stitches
I often move
with what I carry so many times
I often let go
of what a pile holds me up with
And you gotta see if this hole,
doesn't just fix itself...
I never wake up
with what always keeps me busy,
and that’s no obstacle,
to keep pretending the challenge
The chance to patch up this hole,
that I can’t fix...
I almost never ask myself
if life under the sun is a dream.
An idea against the world.
A rough idea, and it changes the weather.
And it’s better than everything
I was doing
and couldn’t fix...
Who can patch up this hole?
Who can patch up this hole?
Who can patch up this hole?
Who can patch up this hole?
