I sometimes try to forget that poetry,
I leave places with double sands on my heel
I wanted to believe that my memory would no longer bite
but they want to bite... but they want to bite.
Others told me things that I didn't know,
a beautiful trip, I can't blame them for anything.
I have lived seven even lives,
with a pencil I drew the hemispheres...
But now that I am on my way,
the day has come
to return to where they know my name...
I want to return home.
You are far away, another world,
where the scream and the whisper
of triumphs and disasters,
I think of you and I shake myself.
You are a land from another world
of pure hearts,
of fire they are your wings.
I always want to return.
How beautiful is the way home.
I always want to return, return, return...
You will try to follow perfumes, laughter and joy,
which is what it was worth.
I will try to find the rivers that say my name.
I will deny that your requintos play
melodies of old songs, it may...
maybe if someone calls me and has aim
one day I will appear through the door of the house...
follow your voice, perhaps.
You are far away, another world,
where the scream and the whisper
of triumphs and disasters,
I think of you and I shake myself.
You are a land from another world
of pure hearts,
of fire They are your wings.
I always want to return.
How beautiful is the way home.
I always want to return, return, return...
Sometimes I try to forget that melody.
Sometimes I try to forget that poetry.
Sometimes I try to forget...
Sometimes I try to forget...