Pero no, no hay prisa; te duele el corazón al recordar su sonrisa, te duele con razón, pero no, no hay prisa.
Y vuelves a tu casa con la misma camisa, pero con manchas de ron.

dilluns, 9 de gener del 2012

Although we have no obligation to stay alive, 
on broken bags we beg for mercy, we will survive.
I won't be lifted behing closed doors.


Black eyes, broken fingers,
blood drips and I let it run down my lips and to my swollen gums...
When hope is non-existent, our lips all scream "Run".
We never turn our backs or even bite our tongue.