Drowned in our beds,
we make our way through life.
It all goes so fast.
On my lips you read
melancholy.
We used to be in love, we avoid each other.
It was you, it was us.
There was you and your sweet little face.
It was you, it was us,
and nothing remains except your sweet little face.
Clinging to time,
to these child dreams
that get so often forgotten.
And so I write,
through the ordeal of these nights,
melancholy
like a magnet for love
It was you, it was us.
There was you and your sweet little face.
It was you, it was us,
and nothing remains except your sweet little face.