In its glass tower,
about the national bank
Vivie the prince of the city.
Admorado by demas,
envied is normal.
With success in your hands,
who could ask for more.
He is a good negotiator,
and a lovely play-boy,
favorite of social logic.
Four yachts, three Van Gogh,
and in the parking lot: two Rolls Royce,
and in your heart a hole,
that does not just close.
And in his eyes that madden the ladies,
and that now always hidden behind the glasses,
nostalgia colors their pupils,
and he paints a watercolor
of moments with her.
Oh, love, you stole my heart.
And even though everything already has it,
I am a poor beggar,
because I do not have your love
Oh, love, you've taken my reason.
And although nobody understands it,
now nothing interests me
because I do not have your love
In the glass prison,
about the National Bank,
the prince of the city dies.
Nobody can understand,
he does not care about anything anymore,
and those who knew him
They do not know what to think anymore.
Cloistered upstairs in his abode,
You can always see it in front of the window.
And he does X-rays to the streets,
and look for it among the people,
and the wait, in case it comes back.
Oh love, you have stolen my heart.
And even though everything already has it,
I am a poor beggar,
because I do not have your love
Oh love, you've taken my heart.
And although nobody understands it,
now nothing interests me
because I lack your love.
chorus: Oh love you have stolen my heart ....
Only among all we can make this a better place :)