Una Mañana
Pastora
One Morning
My story starts one morning, I woke up and didn’t feel like doing anything
Nothing at all, nothing for breakfast, nothing for me, nothing at all.
There’s no end to this story, it’s being written little by little,
Everything in its own time
And just a little more time to enjoy, to sin, a little moment of glory that I owe myself,
I burn up when I think that this story is my life, my memory.
Why is it so hard for me?
When I achieve something, I’ve spent too long fighting for it.
Every night I fall asleep on the left side of the bed,
To see if on the right a home rises up, an embrace slips away from me
And I find you there sleeping, curled up in the sheets.
And a kiss, and another kiss,
And a hug and a tumble.
