I grew up in my father's pocket
Bound with a chain to his keys
With his name, his car and his houses
And with all of his big dreams
I grew up in my mother's tears
Like an engraving on a platinum wedding band
That she took off and placed on the side
When she was washing dishes in the kitchen
What are you asking me?
What can I say to you? What you see is what you get
If you want, you can keep me
And if I'm not good enough for you, you can return me
Unfortunately, I've never learned not to belong,
Sometimes to the shepherd, sometimes to the stock and sometimes to the wolf
I grew up for them, they waited
And then (I grew up) for the sake of some liar
And day by day, instead of seeing me
I see my mother in the reflection of the mirror
What are you asking me?
What can I say to you? What you see is what you get
If you want, you can keep me
And if I'm not good enough for you, you can return me
Unfortunately, I've never learned not to belong,
Sometimes to the shepherd, sometimes to the stock and sometimes to the wolf