Love has an author's signature on lost causes
Love always starts dreaming and ends in insomnia
It's a deep act of faith that smells like a lie
Love dances to whatever tune it's played, be that God or the devil
Love is the lost war between sex and laughter
It's the key that opens the faucet of water in your eyes
It's the slowest time in the world when it hurries
Love makes its way slowly, no matter the lock
Love is the arrogance of clinging to the impossible
It's looking somewhere else for what you don't find in yourself
Love is an ingrate that lifts you for a while
And drops you just because
Love is two in one that in the end are none
And they get used to lying
Love is the beauty that feeds on sadness
And in the end it always leaves
Love is almost always better when it's somewhere else
It looks good in novels that sell perfect endings
Don't go, love, because even though you hurt, I don't want to leave you
If you're always a mistake, why are your flaws never seen?
It might be that what I judge is something else, I don't know
That my luck got the impostor, I don't know either
Love is an ingrate that lifts you for a while
And drops you just because
Love is two in one that in the end are none
And they get used to lying
Love is the beauty that feeds on sadness
And in the end it always leaves
And it doesn't let you say what you want to say
Without making you know that one spits upward
It's sitting to watch pass in front of you
The deadly parade of the corpse of all your dreams
Love is an ingrate that lifts you for a while
And drops you just because
Love is two in one that in the end are none
And they get used to lying
Love is the beauty that feeds on sadness
And in the end it always leaves