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