It's called lola and it has history,
although more than history is a poem.
your whole life? searching
nights of glory as soul in pain.
Behind his cloak of cold lady
they had hidden tremendous weapons,
for face-to-face battles
that with advantage very well fought.
it went very bad from hand to hand,
from mouth to mouth, from bed to bed,
like a wrist that wears out,
it stays old and the pain is dragging.
Chorus.
Hear me my lola, my tender lola,
Your sad life is your sad story.
But what a way to walk,
look what superb look.
Hear me my lola, my tender lola,
Your sad life is your sad story.
But what a way to walk,
look what superb look.
Hey my lola my tender lola,
your sad life is your sad story
She was a serene woman until the moment
of surrendering herself to her lovers
it's time for crying, it's time for doubt,
of nostalgia and its madness.
You have the consolation of knowing yourself full
of clean love and sincere love,
because nobody knew how to steal from your kisses
what you have left over today and no one
Hear me my lola, my tender lola,
Your sad life is your sad story.
But what a way to walk,
look what superb look.
Hey my lola my tender lola,
your sad life is your sad story
But what a way to walk,
look what superb look.
Hear me my lola, my tender lola,
Your sad life is your sad story.
Chorus.
It is the time of the wrinkle that does not forgive,
it is the time of the fruit and the painting.
Only among all we can make this a better place :)