I'm Frenetic::

I'm Frenetic, don't try to stop me... My body burns to the speed of sound and evaporates mixed with sweet notes of delusion. Your voice I hear, I can no reach, though. I'm travelling through a hurricane of feelings just to know how this trip will end. I have no patience, I need the knowlegde... the happines... of now, or may be that tomorrow will never come...

Quisiera::

Quisiera todavía ser una niña,
Quisiera todavía ser inocente
Quisiera no saber, no entender, no conocer
Quisiera que me ocultasen cosas
Quisiera no comprender lo que ocurre a mi alrededor.

Quisiera no tener que disfrazarme de alegría
Quisiera no sentir el dolor.
Quisiera no tener que usar esta máscara putrefacta y lacrimosa de iluminación

Quisiera que todo fuese una ilusión.
que todo esto fuese locura y emoción,
éxtasis y fantasía; sólo Sol y Día
No tristeza y agonía.

Quisiera volver, volar, flotar
Quisiera ser, quisiera estar

Quisiera regresar a ese mundo de maravillas
donde animales hablan
y los insectos te guían.

Quisiera nunca haber crecido
Quisiera no haber descubierto
que la vida era sólo esto y nada más y nada menos;
Quizá no soy lo suficientemente humana o simplemente no quiero,
Pero de verdad es que no puedo
No puedo soportar, aguantar el dolor y el sufrimiento
en este mundo de conciencias, pensamientos e ideas.

Quisiera saber ahora mismo cuál es el camino que debo tomar
para regresar a casa y descansar.
Quisiera que hubiese alguien aquí conmigo
que me ayude en mi camino y me acompañe sin dudar.

Quisiera y sólo quisiera
que el reloj dé vuelta atrás.

My tears you can't know::

You can't imagine how many tears I've cried for you

You don't get an idea of how many thought I had last night.

There's no way you can know how sad I am be cause of you,

No person in the world have noticed my fake face. My mask

But no one can, ever know, that I miss you. Not even you.

Not you.

I know It's not your fault. You would know It's not mine neither.

But you can't, be cause you're the reason why I'm here, right now

Writing this.

Now everything's lost. I don't even know who I am.

Who am I? I'm not you, of that I'm sure.

But again and again, I have to let myself be, and get it out.

Be cause if I don't, I'm going to explode in pieces.

My head has no thought but of you.

My face has no choice but to melt.

My mind does no other thing but to doubt.

My eyes have no satisfaction until they get blood.

That's right. When all my tears left, they left me blood.

The Panic came, but I was too tired to run.

My body fell apart, and my room became dark.

Then... Nothing.

No other day like that.

There's no way you can watch that scene.

Now find your wings and start to fly.

I'll stay here a bit longer just to cry.

That World's Song::

They don't go where thy can't see.
But if they'd go, they'd discover a Wonderful place
Full of wishes and fantasies
Where dreams are kept and smiles can't hide.

Their wings would blossom with the multiple-color sky and then they'd blow out because of the deafening moise of the music that comes from the clouds.

Entity lost in thoughts.
The devilish image of a perfect world made him lose his integrity.

The skin opened and the entrails came out and flew away with the fishi-birds.

Covered with blood looked at his hands and sang that desperated melody of silly bohemia.

Colours would fall from the sky and would crush them to make them even.

Eden of a two-sided satyr, home of hundreds of childish nymphs and fairies.

The floating notes are like arrows that pierce through his heart.
Keeps singing, keeps singing the song; the bohemian song.
Euphoria consumed his body and now just his bones are their.

They would have fun, they would feel fine.
But they don't see it, they can't see the portal.
They'll never feel as full and empty as him.

Ganar o Perder?::

La gente no puede

ganar nada sin perder

nada, debe sacrificar

algo del mismo valor

a cambio.

In My Arms::

She've always asked me about my life
"How have you been?" She said
The last time we met.
One day, she looked into my eyes
Just staring, just to watch.
The day she was laying in my arms.

She've always talked me about her toys.
I've always loved when she was sad
Her big eyes turning into cristal balls
Shiining just like the highest stars,
Feeling lonely, feeling bad.

Why does it have to be like this?
Why is it alway so cold? (So wrong...)
Why? (Why?) Why? (Why?)
Why is it always the same?
I've been feeling for so long this pain.
My head is so confused,
My arms are still with you.
There are so many questions
That have my attention,
But I just can't find the answers
To those that have me mad.
I just wanna be by your side.

I miss you (I miss you), I miss you (I miss you).
(Little princess...)
The day you left alone here...
In my arms.

Maldita Melancolía::

Cada mañana, al mis ojos entreabrirse, despierto, gracias a un agudo sonido junto a mi oído; A pesar de ello mi sonrisa debe de estar ahí, dibujada. Cada día, ahí está, como si nada. A pesar de los gritos, a pesar de los llantos. Se mantiene firme, siempre estabilizada. Inclusive, aunque no miraran. Pero si quitaran esa máscara, ese papel donde está dibujada, podría quizás verse mi cara, mi alma. Y así, por las mejillas ruedan, espesas, sin esperanzas: Lágrimas que se deslizan lentamente, y caen. Con un sonido casi inaudible, pero hermoso. Y así lo hacen cada noche, sobre mi almohada, el colchón, en las sábanas. Caen en ausencia de compañía. No tienen a nadie que les diga "a mí también"... Y en esa ausencia se encontró una noche, con otra lágrima parecida. Había salido a pasear fuera de su hogar, en busca de una mano amiga. Y así se encontraron una cálida noche de verano, mi sangre y mi llanto, con su bella música se consolaban mutuamente, como besos, como abrazos. Y allí, en ese éxtasis de tristeza, la depresión devoró mi cuarto. A partir de ese día, ya todo estaba muerto. El amor que se tenían, ya no podía ser promulgado. La vida las condena a una muerte con cadenas. La tortura y la desesperación las llevó a la perdición. Ahora están solas nuevamente, aguardando su dulce compañía, que algún día, otra vez, será mía. Culpa de esta maldita melancolía.