The wall clock
Announcing 6:23
The thirsty past
And the present is an athlete without feet
It is already 6:43
And the cad See the minute that passed
He tells me this is how you live here whether you like it or not
And nostalgia puts home in my head
And it's 6:50
Who told you that I was the dream you once dreamed? Who told you that you would turn my future upside down?
It's already 7:16
And the corpse of the minute that passed
He tells me your strategy will ruin you
There is nothing left but to learn to live alone
If you have guts left
The house is nothing else
Than a cemetery of stories
Buried in graves
That some call memory
Minutes
Like salt in the wound
My life is passing me by
Wasting down the clock
Minutes
They are the morgue of time
Corpses of moments
That They never return
With things that never come back
It's already 9:23
And the corpse of the minute that passed
It makes fun of my desire to kiss
The photo that you left on the bureau
My loneliness is your revenge
The mystery of time
It placed its seat on my pillow
There I find you in moments
Although it is of no use
Minutes
Like salt in the wound
My life is passing me by
Wasting down the clock
Minutes
They are the morgue of the time
Corpses of moments
That never return
There is no clock that turns back
Minutes that mock me
Minutes like sea fury
Minutes passengers on a train that is going nowhere
Minutes like rain of salt
Minutes like fire on the skin
Minutes strangers who come and go without saying
Minutes that hurt me without you
Minutes that do not pay pension
Minutes that when they die will form yesterday's battalion
Minutes that they steal the light
Minutes that rust my faith
Minutes tenants of time while they can last
Minutes that enjoy dying
Minutes that have no place
Minutes that crash in me
They are walks of God

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