Zapatero

Feather headdress, foam headdress
like beer,
like a never-ending blonde braid.
To climb, to climb up high
to the rooftop to look at the sky.
Where do you live now,
in a low house;
where you spend the nights
in your frosty bed.
Send me in an envelope
your broken smile.
Quickly, García.
I'll fix it for you.
Boots are repaired,
leather bags and espadrilles,
wicker baskets, tassel headbands.
That there is nothing else.
That there is nothing else
as long as our lips want to kiss...
That there is nothing else.
That there is nothing else
as long as our lips want to kiss...
That there is nothing else
as long as our mouths want to kiss.
With tuberose snow
I'll mend it for you.
With fabric from the blade
of an old windmill.
With dust from the shine
of a piece of mirror.
With the white tail
of a perplexed cat.
That there is nothing else.
That there is nothing else
as long as our lips want to kiss...
That there is nothing else.
That there is nothing else
as long as our lips want to kiss...
That there is nothing else.
That there is nothing else
as long as our lips want to kiss...
That there is nothing else.
That there is nothing else
as long as our mouths want to kiss.
Send me in an envelope
your broken smile.
I'll fix it for you
because I'm a shoemaker.
Because I'm a shoemaker,
because I'm a mender shoemaker...
Because I'm a shoemaker,
because I'm a mender shoemaker...
Because I'm a shoemaker,
because I'm a mender shoemaker.