Idioma Origen:
Every city is a ghost town
where I see remnants of us
that will never fade because they?ll never see the light.
The streets remember our footprints,
maps made in sand and snow,
where we walked, side by side.
The things we told eachother, piece by piece,
as it comes back now, revisiting
I stopped searching for our missing ending.
There are no dry winds carrying torn pages
down abandoned roads,
fluttering, caught on telephone poles,
waiting to be found and read aloud.
Even if I, alone, returned to
those streets, deceased,
I?d be choked by the
ashes of long-combusted paper dreams.
You are being immortalized as I speak,
not just in words, but a reality
I live in my sleep.
Last night, I dreamt you followed me.
I can feel you always close, sometimes
a day ahead, or two behind,
hunting down a similar night,
different from the next.
I can still hear your voice in air currents
you?ve since left
and I?ve just found
I told you to never try and find me,
But how can I ask memories to leave?
They just come and go as they please.
And even if I wrote a thousand songs,
No one will ever know what you?ve done to me.
They?ll hear it echoing,
or see the delicate skin
shed from a body still evolving,
ghosts of emotions lost and unable to give up,
a carcass of a parasite that left one final scar
before it was cast from its host.
We?re not bound by ties,
but inescapably intertwined in each other?s lives.
Your love was glass cut like a diamond,
but I have discovered a truer fortune.
I take pity on your greed
because you will never regain the wealth you lost in me.
And even as I immortalize you with my words,
I know you don?t deserve this.
Idioma Destino:
Every city is a ghost town
where I see remnants of us
that will never fade because they?ll never see the light.
The streets remember our footprints,
maps made in sand and snow,
where we walked, side by side.
The things we told eachother, piece by piece,
as it comes back now, revisiting
I stopped searching for our missing ending.
There are no dry winds carrying torn pages
down abandoned roads,
fluttering, caught on telephone poles,
waiting to be found and read aloud.
Even if I, alone, returned to
those streets, deceased,
I?d be choked by the
ashes of long-combusted paper dreams.
You are being immortalized as I speak,
not just in words, but a reality
I live in my sleep.
Last night, I dreamt you followed me.
I can feel you always close, sometimes
a day ahead, or two behind,
hunting down a similar night,
different from the next.
I can still hear your voice in air currents
you?ve since left
and I?ve just found
I told you to never try and find me,
But how can I ask memories to leave?
They just come and go as they please.
And even if I wrote a thousand songs,
No one will ever know what you?ve done to me.
They?ll hear it echoing,
or see the delicate skin
shed from a body still evolving,
ghosts of emotions lost and unable to give up,
a carcass of a parasite that left one final scar
before it was cast from its host.
We?re not bound by ties,
but inescapably intertwined in each other?s lives.
Your love was glass cut like a diamond,
but I have discovered a truer fortune.
I take pity on your greed
because you will never regain the wealth you lost in me.
And even as I immortalize you with my words,
I know you don?t deserve this.