Corazon De Mimbre

Stop, stop, don't come closer, it's been too many years
For your wild dawn, it is better that you forget me
I stay here to cast my sorrow in the Sun
On the clothesline desolation
Then I'll start sewing, I love you on a piece of paper
And to sweep away the desire with the hairs of a brush

And as soon as he finished mending the wounds of
The nights of poor sleep I arrived
And I filled the mattress with flowers, for both of them
Without thorns, colorful, that spread
When I cry and when we don't spray them
With our sweat

And he confessed to me whenever we want to start that
In the lines of the hand he read it
That the sun is over for burning her
But he was scared, how your chest rumbles!
Calm down, it's just my battered heart
That rears up when he hears your voice, the bastard

What the hell is wrong with him? He can't fly anymore?
Maybe the moonlight wet his feathers?
The sound of the dew drops drove her crazy
When it starts to get light, and you haven't fallen asleep yet

And I fell in love with her. Although she was a winged fairy and
I was still nothing it didn't matter
We were part of the same mattress
Until he swore, we will love each other more than anyone else
So that not even the air flows between you and me
I felt like I was missing the heat and I say

What the hell is wrong with him? He can't fly anymore?
Maybe the moonlight wet his feathers?
The sound of the dew drops drove her crazy
When it starts to get light, and you haven't fallen asleep yet

He made a deal with the mattress, with its foam he lined his heart
That last night was made of stone and at dawn it was made of wicker
That bends before breaking
That bends before it breaks, that it breaks
To split

It was dawn, I saw her leaving smiling, with what she was wearing
Through the balcony door, hair in the wind
Saying goodbye to me, because he decided, that now
I was fed up with poets with fly and rolls
From container troubadours

What the hell is wrong with him? He can't fly anymore?
Maybe the moonlight wet his feathers?
The sound of the dew drops drove her crazy
When it starts to get light and you haven't fallen asleep yet

And he made a deal with the mattress, with its foam he lined his heart
That the night was made of stone, and the dawn was made of wicker
That bends before breaking
That bends before breaking
To break, to break