Dont lie, dont say youre coming, theres no tears to fall for you again,
neither the sky nor the sea, nor the peaks of the peaks , nor kindness, O love, not like the stories of the migratory bird that you go to one day again in the roar of your eyes, somehow,
tears are going to fall on my cheeks, youre going to laugh and count my tears, and you dont want to
follow me with a feverish look , swallow, maybe youll fill me up again , youre lying, my dear.Thats my part , in the midst of your eyes , this is the custom of the time.
