Stop sending letters
Letters always get burned
It's not like the movies
They fed us on little white lies
I think you're crazy, maybe
I will see you in the next life.

Como una gélida mirada de mariposas
en un cielo de celuloide
ella sacude su último adiós
y me pide que deje atrás nuestra diapositiva.

.
.
.
.

the power i afford you

is the one

i wish

i had

over you.

.
.
.
.

Y después despertamos y es domingo y febrero.