A B side, you play it,
a friend’s voice letting you know
about time and glory,
no love, no misery,
on your own tragedy it sounds
like a whisper, subtle rhythm,
surrounding fears and
some unique dreams.
It’s still cold there out
between you and me.
Whatever, no more pain,
feeling alright, late nights,
late promises and words
you’ll never understand
even if you hear them.
A needle, tangential path
to forgiveness, hidden
and lost intentions,
deservingly dumb and deaf
with no return, forgotten.
It’s still cold there out
between you and me.
Near, fooling you
and your conscious life,
inadvertently burying
a few truly loved hopes,
no matter if you care.
Late nights, late hopes,
don’t take your hat off,
after all it’s still cold
there out between
you and me.
Al frío de las palabras en silencio