A part of me follows you although I know
you're not there for me anymore.
A part of me is part of you
and I'll learn to live with it.
Because we avoid each other.
We don't talk, you and I.
We're in a hurricane.
We can't find a solution.
Tell me how many times, too many times
I've asked you more than what I give.
All my tenderness against your madness
are still not enough for you, still not useful to you.
You tell me.
The silence is visible and that part of me
leaves me going after you.
And I stay like this with that other half.
You don't know the noise it'll make.
I miss your delays,
your arms - where are they?
And tell me how many times, too many times
I've asked you more than what I give.
So many occasions, so many decisions
and the certainty that you still understood me.
Now that I lose you,
I understand who is who.
Tell me how many times, too many times.
When I made a mistake, at least tell me why.
Give me some time - that's the right
that can be left to that part of me.
A part of me.