The lovers go from bed to bed
In hotels, on parking
To escape all this melancholy
The heart of cities look bad
Shots blues, phone calls,
Everything will start in spring
Unless the indelible love.
Dreams are crammed in metros,
The skyscrapers look down on us
Like a bird in the bars.
I'm not good in my head, mom.
I lost the taste of the party, mom.
Look how your daughter is made, mom.
I find no sense in my quest
At a time when the bars are filled,
This same time when hearts are empty.
Those nights when the promises are woven,
As quickly they squander.
Shots blues, phone calls,
Everything will start in spring
Unless the indelible love.
Dreams are crammed in metros,
The skyscrapers look down on us
Like a bird in the bars.
I'm not good in my head, mom.
I lost the taste of the party, mom.
Look how your daughter is made, mom.
I find no sense in my quest
Look how your daughter is made, mom.
I find no sense in my quest