Cansado Y Aburrido

Melancholy came back
Another family dinner
In the phobia I hide
The tragedy behind an empty glass and

My conscience in my excesses
And the failure of my dreams
Leading to another depression
Stuck here in my fears
I don't respect or tolerate
I don't want to see who I am

The idiot with the story
Always critical and correct
I guess that's me
The forefront of distrust
The recipe for comfort
Will that be my calling?

And no one asked
If I was tired and bored of who I am
Doesn't it hurt to be aware of who you are?

I hate hate and disdain
From my confinement and your advice
I detest who I am

Arrogant to the extreme
Comfortable, ignorant, and blind
Mediocre by choice

And no one asked
If I was tired and bored of who I am
Doesn't it hurt to be aware of who you are?