Ricardo Arjona
Miscellaneous
Minute
The wall clock
Announcing 6:23
The thirsty past
And the present is an athlete without feet
br/>It's already 6:43
And the corpse of the minute that passed
He tells me this is how you live here whether you like it or not
And nostalgia puts a house in my head
And it's six fifty
Who told you that I
It was the dream you once dreamed
Who said that you
Today you want my future upside down ©s
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 any guts left
The house is nothing else
Than a cemetery of stories
Buried in graves
That some call memories
Minutes
Like salt in the wound
Life passes me by
Wasting down the clock
Minutes
They are the morgue of time
Corpses of moments
That They never come back
There is no clock that can turn back
How it hurts to spend
The moment in which you are no longer here
How hard it is to fight
With things that don't come back anymore
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 it in the bureau
My loneliness is your revenge
The ministry of time
He put his headquarters in my pillow
There I find you in moments
Although it is of no use
br/>Minutes
Like salt in the wound
Life is passing me by
Running out the clock
Minutes
They are the morgue of time
Corpses of moments
That never return
There is no clock that turns back
Minutes that mock me
Minutes like the fury of the sea
Minutes passengers of a train that goes nowhere
Minutes like a rain of salt
Minutes like fire on the skin
Minutes of strangers that come and go without saying
Minutes that hurt me without you
Minutes that do not pay pension
Minutes that when dying will form the battalion of yesterday
Minutes that 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 into me are Kamikazes of God.