Buenos Aires

I arrived to sculpt the nostalgia
To slip through the rails of my memory
To take off the mask of the past
Tired of being tired

Guided by that northern wind
The one followed by the old poets
Tired of so many bets
I bet everything on the losing horse

Good airs beloved
Are your airs of new loves
Like a crazy lost
Chasing the smell of your flower kiosks

I arrived like so many arrived
To get lost in the echo of your days of glory
To lay down next to your side
Tired of being tired

To see that nothing is so important
That it's just a matter of time
And although the pocket cried for comfort
The pilgrim was already marching without a solution

Good airs...

I jumped from a distant memory
To let myself fall like a leaf in the grass
To get lost in your silver garden
Tired of being tired

It was nothing but the fervor of a moment
But the springs kept passing
And what does it matter here, there, or until when
When the dream surpasses reason

Good airs...

I entered to wander through your body
To wear a coat from a forgotten time
To lie down next to your side
Tired of being tired

And so today I walk through your veins
Without having to hide in your skirts
To make your faults my sorrows
And my sorrows an intoxicating perfume

Good airs...

I descended from the dreamed peak
Where the clouds covered the horizon
And I remembered all the forgotten time
Tired of being tired

And comrades, let's talk straight
The night is approaching
Before that northern wind
Returns marking a new direction

Good airs...