Ay Dolores

Quarter to ten on the clock
The night opens its door in your head
On the TV, a soap opera, the food in the living room
Waiting for a smile, an I love you, a caress

The keys turn your room gray
Entering with hatred in their eyes
You no longer have their warmth, alcohol is their taste
Starting with reproaches, insults, contempt

And now you have nothing to say
I don't know if I'm a woman or if I'm shit
Submerged in irrationality, stripped of value
Victim of their fear, failure, and jealousy

Oh! Pains, the blows on your back
The torture in your mind
Oh! Pains, with the silence of society

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and again
Life slips through your fingers
Sunk in who knows what, shattered on the couch
With a swollen face from something more than sadness

But now it's time for everything to go well
To fly without wings, to feel that you are free
To dream of the prince charming, to enjoy who you are
Breaking the chains with which society traps you

Finally, this story has ended
Dolores changed her name for freedom
Escaping from the bastard who destroyed your life
Because life is just a story that must be lived in the moment

Oh! Pains, the blows on your back
The torture in your mind
Oh! Pains, with the silence of society