Scars (cicatrices) - текст песни
Scars (cicatrices)
Scars,
Incurable of a wound
That life has caused me
In its sad battle.
Scars,
That they no longer close ever
Because they carry always truncated
The hope of curing.
I loved her inmensly
But she was a perjurer
And filled with deep bitterness
And pain my illusion.
It is for that reason that now I live
Always to blows with the luck,
And only I want the death
For my broken-hearted and poor heart.
In the face
I also show with pride
A memory that is very yours
And that I take for my worse.
A memory
That they made me on your behalf,
When I played as man
With the rival's life.
Indelible scars
Of a stormy past
That the luck has offered me
And that I will never lose.
Scars of my life
That although they don't have charm
I want them so much and so much
That I will never forget.
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