I came to meet up with you,
But you refused to see me.
For this sailor upon his ship,
The harbor will be old tonight.
What a pity, our washed up loves.
The irony, 9-11...
Love's only to be accepted,
Not understood.
The streets are dead and I'm dying
To see them just as dead as me,
And the wind blows, upon the foams,
White sailboats into their stations.
The gaze locked on the telephone,
No, I won't get news anymore,
Only confusion in the eyes,
Like monastics losing the skies.
Future escapes the things to come
And present times never last;
Loves conjugate into the past
Whoever thought they'd be in love.
And we're not in love anymore,
Or at least it eluded us,
The indestructible that time
Takes pleasure in killing sometimes.
Why the hell won't you talk to me?
I guess you must have your reasons,
Those things you struggle to live with
When all passion has slipped away.
So there we go for indifference,
For all those things that make no sense
But the silence we make them say
And mascaras down in the smiles.
The night's shaking, we're not even.
These awful insults, I swear!
We should've made it through all this,
Patch up our injuries a bit.
But the memory's nothing new,
And neither is my violence,
These scratches deep inside of me
That taste like burials sometimes.
New York has put on its white coat,
And I, I've put my knives away.
You know, some day you will come back
For a coffee or whatever.
Come on, pull yourself together!
You know she's never coming back,
That the forest has caught fire
And that love has gone forever.
9-11 through the ashes,
The world in tears for the Center;
And I, in tears for my love,
I sure could jump from a tower.
Of course, mine is an only child,
But it would taste just like the sky,
It would taste like the tragedies,
The murderesses,
The murderesses.
At the marches of the New World,
Well, I say fuck the pouring rain,
I'm looking at them as they mourn
And it doesn't move me at all.
My heart's busy with other crimes,
It's busy with the love of you,
And if two towers miss in New York,
My love, you are missing to me.
If there's no way for love stories,
I guess, to ever go backwards,
I'm leaving just the way I came,
On a train looking for its tracks.
There's no news in the telephone,
Nothing but their dismal tribute,
Because my road is funeral,
Because my light is lacking you.
To the genocides they're selling,
Our consciences, the tremors,
You know all this moves me not.
And as for the fate of the Earth...
It can die off, for all I care,
As it makes me live without you,
As, without you, every daybreak
Never comes together again.
The murderesses.
The murderesses.
The sun is yielding silently.
It's telling me you will be missed.
On the other side of the world,
It must be yielding before you.
The sun is yielding silently.
It's telling me you will be missed.
On the other side of the world,
Yes, it is yielding before you.
That's it, I'm jumping, I'm worn out!
And may the seagulls take me
To the place where poets are gods,
Where the Goodbyes are I love yous;
Look at the cities from up high
And see how bright the Earth can shine;
Tell myself that, you, where you are,
You are one of those lights.
At the marches of the New World,
And, from their eyes, the pouring rain,
I'm looking at them as they mourn,
No, it doesn't move me at all.
My heart's busy with other crimes,
It's busy with the love of you,
And if two towers miss in New York,
My love, you are missing to me.
9-11 through the ashes,
The world in tears for the Center;
And I, in tears for my love,
I sure could jump from a tower.
Of course, mine is an only child,
Of course, it tastes just like the sky,
Sure, it tastes like the tragedies,
The murderesses,
The murderesses.
I came to meet up with you
But you refused to see me.
For this sailor without his ship,
The harbor will be old tonight.
What a pity, our washed up loves.
The irony, 9-11...
Love's only to be accepted.
Feedback is always welcome.