When I get old and think
that my thoughts make mistakes
when I gather it together, and take it away
I wonder who it was
Darkness, it is you
I can't see the face of the person
who told me
that people live off of memories
I don't have even one picture
with me and you to put on the table
I have nothing, that's a big nothing
Not even one argument to ruin a dream
nor a drop of beauty for the last day
unfortunately, I have nothing to grieve for
what should I not even forget
I'm trying to dream of you
for 5 minutes at least
I give up and wake up
not sad, nor mad
Darkness, it is you
I can't see the face of the person
who told me
that people live off of memories
Who told me
that people live off of memories