Dime Mentiras ("Tell Me Lies") plunges us into that raw moment when the heart simply refuses to accept a painful goodbye. Over elegant indie-pop instrumentation, Carla Morrison—an artist who bridges the intimacy of Mexican boleros with the indie scene of the United States—voices a desperate wish: “Tell me it’s all a lie, tell me you’re still here.” She searches strangers’ eyes for a trace of her lover, imagines kissing them back to life, and begs for the impossible reversal of time. The chorus loops like a mantra, mirroring the way grief circles through denial again and again.
Behind its gentle melody lies a universal confession: when someone we love disappears, the world feels "este mundo infeliz"—an unhappy planet—unless we can cling to even the tiniest hint that everything is still perfect. Morrison captures that paradox with heartbreaking clarity, turning personal sorrow into a cathartic sing-along that reminds listeners they’re not alone in wishing reality could just, for one shining moment, be rewritten.