Idioma Origen:
I love a man, whose love is violence
Who always comes, who goes away
Who never brings me any flowers
To blossom in my blazing shade
And all of his weak-heart love is lonely
Our love is running out of breath
When I wake, you cannot know me
When I sleep, I dream of death
Wire, cradle, cross and arrow
Mother's milk or crone's rage
Mouths like wolves, we dine like sparrows
There is grace in great restraint
And all of his weak-heart love is lonely
Our love is running out of breath
When I wake, you cannot know me
When I sleep, I dream of death
And I could not help but leave and wonder
What spirit steals your awful head
And I am grateful for your candor
I could not love a better man
?Cause all of his weak-heart love is lonely
Our love is running out of breath
When I wake, you cannot know me
When I sleep, I dream of death
Idioma Destino:
I love a man, whose love is violence
Who always comes, who goes away
Who never brings me any flowers
To blossom in my blazing shade
And all of his weak-heart love is lonely
Our love is running out of breath
When I wake, you cannot know me
When I sleep, I dream of death
Wire, cradle, cross and arrow
Mother's milk or crone's rage
Mouths like wolves, we dine like sparrows
There is grace in great restraint
And all of his weak-heart love is lonely
Our love is running out of breath
When I wake, you cannot know me
When I sleep, I dream of death
And I could not help but leave and wonder
What spirit steals your awful head
And I am grateful for your candor
I could not love a better man
?Cause all of his weak-heart love is lonely
Our love is running out of breath
When I wake, you cannot know me
When I sleep, I dream of death