Love carries the signature of an author of lost causes
Love always begins dreaming and ends up in insomnia
It's profound act of faith that smells like a lie
Love dances to the beat of the drum that's played, whether by God or the demon
Be it God or the demon
Love is the lost war between sex and laughter
It's the key with which you open the water faucet of the eyes
It's the slowest time in the world when it goes quickly
Love forces its way in slowly, no matter what bars the way
Love is the arrogance of clinging to the impossible
It's looking elsewhere for what it doesn't find in you
Love is an ingrate
That lifts you up for while
And drops you just because
Love is two in one
That at the end are no one
And they get used to lying
Love is the beauty
That feeds on sadness
And at the end is always leaves
Love is almost always better when it's somewhere else
It looks good in novels that sell perfect endings
Don't go, love, because even though you hurt I don't want to leave you
You're always a mistake because your defects never show
Maybe what I'm judging is something else, I don't know
Maybe my luck has brought me an imposter, I don't know either
Love is an ingrate
That lifts you up for while
And drops you just because
Love is two in one
That at the end are no one
And they get used to lying
Love is the beauty
That feeds on sadness
And at the end is always leaves
And it doesn't let you say what you want to say
Without letting you know that it's spitting into the wind
It's sitting down to watch pass by in front of you
The deadly parade of the corpse of all your dreams
Love is an ingrate
That lifts you up for while
And drops you just because
Love is two in one
That at the end are no one
And they get used to lying
Love is the beauty
That feeds on sadness
And at the end is always leaves