The worst of love are the ventilated rooms,
the purée of reproaches with sardines
the dead swallows on the pillow,
The bad thing of after is the spoils
that embalsaman the smoke of dreams, the sistole
the phones that speak with the eyes.
The sitole without diastole without owner.
The most ungrateful thing is to whitewash the house,
mend the venereal virtues,
condemn the files to the stake.
The worst of love is when it happens,
when to the final point of the finals,
he does not have two suspension points left.
That makeup does not alter your laughter,
that the luggage does not ballast your wings,
that the calendar does not come in a hurry,
that the dictionary detenag the bullets,
That the blinds correct the aurora,
I want to win the war of the can,
that those who wait do not count the hours,
let those who kill die of fear.
Let the end of the world catch you dancing,
that the ecenario dyes your gray hair
that you never know how or when,
I do not feel flying, neither yesterday nor tomorrow.
May the heart not go out of style
that autumns bend your skin,
that each night seea wedding night,
Do not put on the honeymoon.
That all the nights are wedding nights,
that all the moons are honeymoons.
That the truths do not have complex,
that lies are like lies,
that the mirrors do not give you the reason,
Take advantage of what you see.
Qie divorce from you the helplessness,
that each dinner is your last supper,
that being brave does not go so expensive,
that being a coward is not worth it.
That they do not buy you for less than nothing,
do not sell you love without thorns,
Do not sleep with tales of adas,
Do not close the bar on the corner.
May the heart not go out of style
that autumns bend your skin,
that each night seea wedding night,
Do not put on the honeymoon.
That all the nights are wedding nights,
that all the moons are honeymoons.
Only among all we can make this a better place :)