Today I've awoken on the floor of the living room
with my glance dodging the new sun,
that caresses my cheek with fear.
Outside swallows argued with an airplane
but the silence at home was deafening,
these walls know well what happened.
I don't want your apologies anymore,
I don't want to hear your voice,
I don't want anything except for a bit of courage,
to tell you that you're not better than me.
This marks the end of your arm in the air drawing a belt,
your cowardice voice excusing the shooter,
your condolences explaining the reason.
Chorus:
And that's why I'm leaving
and that why I tell you
that not even the devil himself
would have hurt me
as much as you did.
And that's why I leave, that why I curse you,
but before that, I'd like to say in your face one time without fear,
that you're not worth more than me.
Under the stitches, I'm still made out of paper.
I gave you my soul written in each sunset,
I gave you my life and you wrinkled it without reading.
I carry your ghosts tattooed on my skin,
and your contempt walking on the platform,
from my memory that never misses the train.
No more nights sleepless nights
Waiting for the hunter,
disoriented by the fog and the alcohol.
While the charger falls empty at dawn.
It's the end of looking at the ground as I cross the alleyway
of your miseries as if it were my mistakes.
In my sadness, no one rules but me.
Chorus:
And that's why I'm leaving
and that why I tell you
that not even the devil himself
would have hurt me
as much as you did.
And that's why I leave, that why I curse you,
but before that, I'd like to say in your face one time without fear,
that in your trip to the forgotten
in the infinite journey
you'll see, you'll see how the wind that keeps my cries
spits on your face all my pain.
In a corner of the centuries,
you'll hear what the moon always tells to the coward sun
that you're not worth more than me,
that you're not worth more than me,
that you're not worth more than me.