– THE COLD BED –
What a dizzying life
What a dagger to climb
Bleeding tombstone, will forget.
They broke, malasaña
The ropes of the barracks
Traitor, they won’t forget you.
Looking at yourself in the mirror of pain
it breaks, because it’s the rear-view mirror.
So much vanity, so much hypocrisy.
When after death the body goes to the cold grave.
So much wickedness, so much cowardice.
When the body after death is twisted in the cold nothingness.
Tormenting slander
It twists with rancour
The last detail forgotten.
Spilling shame
Of emptiness, without love
Your cardboard existence culminates.
Looking at yourself in the mirror of pain,
It breaks because it’s the rear-view mirror.
So much vanity, so much hypocrisy
When the lament left by the dead is swallowed up by the cold night.
So much wickedness, so much cowardice
When the dead bloody witness stirs you up in the cold bed.
The cold bed,
The one that awaits your shame
Your cynicism without abyss
Cold bed of rancour
Of emptiness without love
Of the mirror so perplexed
Of blood and pain
And of crime without forgiveness.
