Confesionario De Papel

[Dark Lotto]

Paper confessional
writing it will hurt
uncover the wound
to heal it well
Things you carry inside
you feel them raw
bringing them out, in the end it relieves you

[Xhelazz]

Mine is to create, not destroy
mine is to sing and tell
and exclude pain
Mine is to give, receive
mine is yours
I walk down the street crying inside
What does it matter?
Each year is a disease with 365 symptoms
I seek affection in people
hostesses sell you love
they sell you what they don't have
I have a heart like a sieve
riddled with bullets from the brand of heartbreak
What do you expect?
I live with my mother, my father
I want to thank them for everything and I don't know how
I have no faith left, nowadays
good people are a neglect of Nature
How many ways to love?
And only the one that causes suffering is true
Mom despairs, Mario doesn't come
Another bottle again? It's for her again
I will stop crying words, mom
the woman I loved became a ghost
I look for her in the corners
but I realized that only I
am the place of her apparitions
The horizon is the bar counter
we will never be able to lean on
We live in a Christmas tale with cardboard neighborhoods
my mind is a page from a horror book
I was wrong
I don't want to forget everything, I swear!
some memories deserve a future
You, who listen to me, what are you plotting?
There are people who make you part of them
and others who push you away
If tears made a sound when they fell
the bells would be unnecessary
Mute harmonies always sound
those who are born come to fulfill a sentence
I know what I'm talking about, I know what I see
pleasure as a primitive hut of desire
I usually drink fast, speak slowly
And what does it matter? I try to hate myself a little less
and understand you a little more
Your situation and mine, and make friends
I feel like the Jew in Germany
the woman in the bar
the dwarf, the old man, the weirdo, the Indian
From the darkness of my being
I extract a frightened and pained scream
We are cornered by the fear of dying
or the fear of living, which is the same
We are learning, learning to smile
since crying is born knowing
Some expect only Hardcore from me
and if I don't do it, they criticize me, poor ones
They don't know that I open the notebook
like opening a window
to escape from routine
Something I doubt they will ever understand
this is the pure reality
and not telling lies making them seem true
You're very good at rapping, right?
You have no idea, kid
Where does this album end? Word
not at the CD's limit
but at the soul's
You know, this song is not made to be liked
but whoever tells their hatreds is already asking for forgiveness
To tell you that more or less this is me
And here I finish, I'm leaving, to say
I hope this means something to you

[Dark Lotto]

Paper confessional
writing it will hurt
uncover the wound
to heal it well
Things you carry inside
you feel them raw
bringing them out, in the end it relieves you