Nothing tastes as sweet as her mouth,
it carries me to a cloud when it touches me.
The wake of her body opens a path for you
like a torch.
She unleashes tempests as she flies away on her broom.
Nothing tastes as sweet as her mouth,
save for a certain thing that we won't name here.
Sometimes I pass by the market and bring her roses,
or I look her, slowly, head to toe, and time flies.
I am no hero, I know. It's easy, as you can see
to become entranced by that woman, to step where she has stepped.
What could I tell that you could not imagine.
Mi homeland, my flag, my second skin.
The place I want to return to... her mouth, oh, oh, her mouth.
Nothing tastes as sweet as her mouth,
it gives you joy if you're not wel-off on it,
she has her territory clearly marked, like a she-wolf
and inside, the friends that remind her that she's not alone.
I am no hero, I know. It's easy, as you can see
to become entranced by that woman, to step where she has stepped.
What could I tell that you could not imagine.
Mi homeland, my flag, my second skin.
The place I want to return to... her mouth, oh, oh, her mouth.