En palabras...

You come in cold, You're covered in blood. They're all so happy you've arrived. The doctor cuts your cord. He hands you to your mom. She sets you free into this life. And where do you go with no destination, no maps to guide you. Wouldn't you know that it doesn't matter, we all end up the same. These are the chronicles of life and death and everything between. These are the stories of our lives, as fictional as they may seem. You come in this world, and you go out just the same. Today could be the best day of your life. And money talks in this world, that's what idiots will say but you'll find out that this world, is just an idiots parade before you go, you've got some questions. And you want answers But now you’re old, cold, covered in blood, right back to where you started from. These are the chronicles of life and death and everything between. These are the stories of our lives, as fictional as they may seem. You come in

Sonaba por doquier esta canción y todo estaba cambiando. Hace 5 años ^^ My life is brilliant. My love is pure. I saw an angel. Of that I'm sure. She smiled at me on the subway. She was with another man. But I won't lose no sleep on that, 'cause I've got a plan. You're beautiful.  You're beautiful. You're beautiful, it's true. I saw your face in a crowded place, and I don't know what to do, 'cause I'll never be with you. Yeah, she caught my eye, as we walked on by. She could see from my face that I was, fucking high, and I don't think that I'll see her again, but we shared a moment that will last till the end. You're beautiful.  You're beautiful. You're beautiful, it's true. I saw your face in a crowded place, and I don't know what to do, 'cause I'll never be with you. You're beautiful.  You're beautiful. You're beautiful, it's true. There must be

Tenga limosna el malandrín, un hurgón el espadachín; humille la mala mirada otra peor. Mi alma no se halla inmaculada. Soy el orate de Pamplona. Temo a la luna, hipocritona, que ríe bajo el negro crespón. Todo está bajo un apagaluces. ¡Maldición! Oigo un estruendo de carraca. La hora suprema se desata. Caen campanadas fúnebres en la noche a compás. Escucha más de catorce horas. Lágrimas son las horas. ¡Lloras corazón mío! ¡Anda, canta...! No cuentes más.

Sin empaque. Sólo engreído por lo único. Cínico y bobo. Creyendo a todos, descreído. Gustó el hastío con arrobo. Alma seca, beoda mollera. Tan suyo, que a sí mismo era fuerza el poderse tolerar; murió mirándose vivir, y por no saber acabar vivió dejándose morir. Aquí yace este corazón flor de fracaso y perfección.