A keresés eredménye

Two who no longer change

Me and my heart are alone,
tired of lying at each other.
A couple of dreamers, I think we are, me and my heart,
who don't go well in love.
 
A riderless horse, a tideless sea,
like a sunless evening without pigeons,
me and my heart, the two, always bet
that every day doesn't be like many,
like many more, like many more,
a wrong dream,
different to the ones we both dreamed.
 
We're old mustrustfuls, me and my heart,
we're not linked by the hope, just the fear,
and so we both go, walking justbecause,
betting on every day, without being able to change.
 

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Music for the stars

Music that was born with the stars
But don't ask me which of them
It was a blue night and you were loving me
When you were caressing me I was playing.
 
While I was writing, somebody was dying
And I don't know how many more were being born.
And I was so worried in the stars
You by my side mixing with them.
 
There is violence everywhere
Money can make you go crazy
The earth keeps growing
While the air is dying
 
That's why today I sing to the stars
Because they know of my soul and its past
Because they're generous as the sky
They don't know about flags nor frontiers.
 
I don't have nostalgia for my neighbourhood
Because wherever I go it goes with me
Because when it doesn't sound makes me sad
My heart aches and it gets crazy.
 
In the year 2000 will be different
Because this society will have another laws
But the sky will be full of stars
Because if they go we're nothing
 
Music that was born with the stars
But don't ask me which of them......
 

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If isn't after the three (The Bohemian)

The bohemian goes
towards to home
his mother is waiting for him
she knows it's all going bad
today was a light night
it's only three o'clock
today was a light night
 
With his shyness
he can get
a bottle and a woman
who can control him
so he returns to home
before the six o'clock
so he returns to home
 
His health was gone
some time ago
the night is his partner
so much that will wait for him
 
Until the bohemian dies
and it isn't after the three
Until the bohemian dies
if it isn't after the three
 

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For John

How hard is to be able to accept
that some you love and
you adore is no longer with you.
Violence came and a bird has flown,
what a fatal call did someone
to reach to him.
We just have to wait without trying to remember
And making an effort and believe and fight for a better world.
That's what he wanted like you and I
And it's a task that most of humanity already forgot.
 
From where will the light come,
Where will the voice be heard,
Maybe the answer is
Only in you, only in me, only in him, only in all of us.
 
The world spins cruel and one lets himtself roll
But who can answer me
And explain and make me understand
And who will be able to contain
What his spirit woke in my youth
 

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People who doesn't know what they want

People who doesn't know what they want
Sometimes say they love you
And that makes you feel so bad
What worries them the most is that one knows
That nobody comes close to that heart.
 
They would never dare to say
I love you so much many times
For fearing of being happy.
But they find funny that one is so sincere
And they envy you almost secretly.
 
People who doesn't know what they want
Sometimes find some one who loves them
And that makes them feel bad, so bad
 

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Who wants to hear it may hear it

When we don't remember what happens to us,
the same thing can happen.
 
Are those same things that marginate us,
kill our memory, burn our ideas,
remove our words.
 
If history is written by the winner,
that means there's another history:
the real history,
who wants to hear it may hear it.
 
They burn our words, they silence us,
and the voice of the people wil always be heard.
Is useless to kill,
death proves
that life exists...
 

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