Bag, diary and walkman,
Coat and map of Madrid.
Folded, the Great Diploma,
And in the pockets
Mom's glitter melted...< br/>-It's late, hurry up!
-Keep me posted by E-Mail.
-Will they renew your visa?
-Copy the accent or they will know that you are alone...
A heart from another place,
A small cloud on the high seas.
A tree without roots now.
A greeting on a postcard.
When the feet refuse
From the ground that saw them crawl,
They forget everything and fly:
They search so far away
What, at last, is in the mirror.
Bag anguish and cap,
One child and another to come.
The ship appears in the port.
Do you know the story?
Or do you have no memory?
A heart from another place,
A small cloud on the high seas,
A tree without roots anymore,< br/>A greeting on a postcard.
Two lines on a postcard...
Lyrics and music: Andrés Mazzitelli