Postal de Amor

My love, colorless
Old postcard, banal love
Without any
Without any value
Tonight
My poor paper love
Forget the color
Of the ad up in the sky

In the main arcade
Secret evil
On a neon night
Of crepe paper

The sea, comes and goes
With a taste
Of the liqueur that remained
On your lips
Of the sweat that remained
On my lips
Leaving my
Hoarse voice, hoarse voice
Hoarse voice, hoarse voice
Mad
Mad, mad, mad
Mad, mad
Very mad, mad...(repeat)