It was a mirror or an echo
Or a reflection of an absence
I am an old man and a waste
I with glasses, I without
Between works and omissions
I am the player whose life I have never lived
Who aims yet another deception with all the attention
On the used cloth of the pain that I have never had
To overcome his damage that I have not never given
This sea rises inside me
While I prepare the tea
But who have I been
Samaritan or take it all
In this masked ball
Where costume is everything
Between works and omissions
I am a survivor of this life now
Between shipwrecked stories and trinkets with all occasions
A silent velvet heart that I have not grasped never
To pin pins that I have never removed
This sea rises inside me
While I prepare the tea that I have never had
This time dances inside me
Inside this room that I have never closed
The center is of my temple to you
Between the bad or the good
That ticket must be extracted
Locked in boxes of millions< br/>Of works and omissions
My guitars are prisons
With the strings that are bars
And the punishments are the songs
Who alone play and for whom
This sea rises inside me
While I prepare the tea that I have never offered
This time dances inside me
Inside this room that I have never opened
The center is of my temple to you
So I realize that
Time is like air
That it exists precisely when it is missing
Like an artist of varied art
That he trudges towards the end
Between works and omissions
It was a mirror or an echo of a lot of life now
Or the stammering of a conscience with all the admissions
And there are two of us and one blind wall that I have never done
Me with glasses, me without