Ella Me Confundió Con Otra Persona

She yelled and then whispered
and in no case did I understand a word.
She said yes, she would always be there,
and then pretended I should thank her.
It started on any given night
and I still haven't been able to stop it.

She ran, said: 'come after me',
and the dust she kicked up blinded me completely.
She pointed at me, said: 'it's the same mistake'.
I tried to explain it was a different mistake.
What does it matter? It's about mistakes.
What does it matter, if the worst of them was
that she mistook me
for someone who obviously wasn't me.

She presented letters to the judge
and I swear that handwriting wasn't mine.
She put in my mouth phrases that to me
sounded like pure foreign jargon.
Mr. Judge, that's not my clothes.
No, that's not my toiletry bag.

One night I saw an old man die.
I stayed and stole his false teeth.
Now I can look at you
and wear a huge smile at the same time.
What does it matter if people die?
What does it matter, if they have to die.
She mistook me
for someone who obviously wasn't me.

You can argue with me, even contradict me,
but I know what I lived, praying day and night like this:
God, make me forget or make her die.

She came back. Oh yes, she came back,
and didn't take long to declare her deep love for me.
Let's make everything start over
and end with the saddest dust in the world.

What does it matter if love is reborn?
What does it matter, if deep down I know
that she mistook me
for someone who obviously wasn't me.