On a platform of the station,
under the burning sun,
you spoke of a skyscraper
of the sky of New York.
Come soon to see the sea
and send a postcard,
I already knew that day
was the end.
Now, I have much more,
red, black, even or odd,
at last, the luck brings an ace
and a glass to look through
and a wall to hang
seven smiling faces
in a passport photo.
Chorus:
My tales didn't tell about stories made by chance.
No one said me that the destiny offers this oportunity.
One and one is seven,
who was going to tell me,
that being happy was so easy.
How many years I have been here,
how many years I will be here,
what is the exact price
of the hapiness.
Who will remind me,
who will look at you,
who is driving the handles
of the chance.
A caress of yesterday
postcards without signature,
and that Burning´s CD,
they aren't things to save.
Today, I smile when I remember
that you will dream about flying.
From the benchs of Madrid
you can't see the sea.
Chorus
If I had had time for me in the past,
now, is for we six.
Coming out of the cafe,
the troubles begin again,
like every dawn.
There are toasts for three,
clean up the room,
this "scene" of family
deserves a song.
Chorus