While I walked hand in hand towards the mountain,
some days were fire and others were flames.
Inside the mirror where I was not reflected,
the promise that awaited us at the top.
But once there the clouds did not let us see the ground
and one feeling I had was fear.
The path down was narrower,
you could say a descent to hell.
I asked you to guide me when I was blind,
the mountain was the one who responded with an echo,
an echo that exactly reproduced my laments,
I dreamed them Those that I once had and no longer have.
A path of torture and suffering
that has brought me where I am now dead,
praying for someone to pick me up from the ground,
where I am abandoned.
So I asked you for the least and you didn't want to give me anything
and now that I don't love you anymore,
you call me.

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