Thunderstorm

I’ve drunk a lot of alcohol changing my blood and my soul.
Most of the time you had a dark and hidden part, you were like the moon.
I could never be immune…
I could never be immune to you.
I could never be immune to you.
I lost myself between your legs, mirrors talk to me again.
Two in the morning and three bottles of green glass.
Eight O’Clock, I remember you liked mourn, mourn sitting in front of the window,
seeing the leaves fall, fall.
Silver and gold.
Silver and gold.
Silver and gold.
I enjoyed holding you to feel your warmth so cold.
A thunderstorm, beautiful from a distance.
And that was our life, fair, because life is unfair to everyone, to everyone.
From each sky some rain must fall, but the rain dried.
Blow quite blind and crack your rinds, my expanse drowning your glow.
Cold sweat from fever goes down to town with roses and a black crown.
Spirals of different size.
Silver and gold.
Silver and gold.
Silver and gold.
I can not do this on my own.
I feel that all this was my fault.
Transform it into my thunderstorm.
You: bipolar and I: alcohol.
Songwriter
Iván Villasante