If it wasn't for your voice on the telephone,
the rain would weight a sea on my back,
the storm would push the limits of the imaginary.
If it wasn't for the certainty of disaster
I would swear I dreamed on an angel's attack
to take over my heart, my all, the nothing I own.

If it wasn't for the absence of a heartbeat in my chest
I could have sworn last night you conquered my love.
But I'm sure you called, cos my blood doesn't run
cos I could not possibly live on such a paradox
for my heart is already taken,
I can't let you conquer what's already yours.

Es un dia gris como todos; haga sol, llueva, truene o relampaguee.
A estas alturas del partido deberia de haber colgado los guantes. Verdaderamente, no hay nada digno por lo que luchar, ya no hay... mas que solo espera. Paciencia, vegestorio inutil, paciencia!