Of return to the routine..
We dress without speaking itself.
The hurry can more than the passion.
It(He,She) weighs me every day.
The recollections and the moments.
Since darts fix this heart.
And the melancholy.
It(He,She) attacks me for the back mercilessly.
And suddenly I put to think.
(Choir) That if we still had a little time.
If tomorrow they finish our days.
And if I have not said to you sufficiently.
That I adore you with the life.
That if we still had a little time.
And if it(he,she) could not do to you any more the love.
If I do not manage to swear you.
That nobody can love you any more than I.
The evening dies slow.
And the hours(o‘clock) consume me.
I am eager to return to see.
I cannot understand(include) it.
Since it(he,she) was that the custom.
I change our way of wanting.
And the melancholy.
It(He,She) attacks me for the back mercilessly.
And suddenly I put to think.
(Choir).
Nobody knows actually(indeed) that it is what has.
Until it(he,she) faces the fear of losing it forever.
(Choir)..