If I got lost in your eyes,
would you help me find my way back?
If my hands held yours too,
could we dance a song or two.
Could you? Would you?

Tell me can you feel it?
The beating of my heart,
Tell me can you hear it?
The tempo of our feet.
Hear it. Feel it.

The lights shine brightly,
your lips seem to glow,
hold me darling a bit tighter,
let the dance floor grow.
Brighter. Tighter.

If I kissed you, would you forgive me?
And if you liked it, could I have one back.
If the camera's on us, let us be actors,
forbidden lovers for play pretend,
just hold me closer,
don't let this end.

So take this night and hold my hand,
freeze the whole world,
capture the moment,
for when it's gone and I awaken,
I know I'll miss you,
I hope you will too...

She said to me "Do you want to play races, or hide and seek?"
"Whichever one you want ***", I replied with a smile.
"Heck, let's play both". And she hugged me for a while, "you run and hide first".
So I did, and time passed, and we weren't kids no more, and as most stories end, she moved away, and never said good bye.
So even till this day, I'm still playing her game.
I've been running for so long, that I ran into myself.
I've been hiding long enough, hoping I would find myself.

What if Planet Earth was blue?
Not only the oceans but also me and you,
what if all the lies we've said became true?
And everything lost its color to a darker shade of blue,
tell me then, what would you do?

What if the mountains became plains?
Or we all shared but one name,
what if excitement became lame?
And we were all the same,
our good vibes would turn to blues,
I'd feel empty and you would too.

What if the rain came from the ground?
And your father was still around,
what if it was you and not a homeless dog going to the pound.
If the cards changed players would you laugh, or would you frown?
What if the dome above us wasn't blue
and this terrestrial choreography came down,
I would notice it, but would you?

She walked into the room almost as quietly as the flies crawling in through the corners of my window, I would've not noticed her if she had not mentioned my name, or at least what they called me. I was sitting on my red recliner pushing back and forth with my legs imagining I was still rocking my old fishing boat at Lake Warren. I simply did not have a single care in the world for where I was, who I was, or why I was, as long as I could remember how to breathe I was fine, at least that's what the old woman that slept next to me always said.
I couldn't tell who the woman facing me was, but she looked a lot like a little girl I once knew, she held my hand almost as if transferring a calmness into me that I could only get from her, "Do you know who I am?", she said. Slowly I stood my neck out trying as hard as my vision would allow me to study her face. Those hazel brown eyes, I could almost make out my reflection in them, as if I were standing infront of a mirror looking into my very own soul, pointing out every single flaw within me.
That smile, that warm loving smile, I felt a small memory rising up in the back of my head, those same big teeth giggling at me many years ago in a now forgotten park, I could not remember who she was, but I could feel love sprouting from within her and into my old ragged heart, I knew she loved me, but still I admitted, "I'm sorry, I don't, you seem familiar, but I don't know you". Water began forming in her eyes but still she held that smile up, "its ok, don't stress yourself, you'll remember me sooner or later".
I hope I would, maybe if I guessed I might get it right and not feel so bad, but she had already began walking out of the room, and still I could not remember who... "I love you Isabel", I heard the door **** hold back for a second, then that same warm voice returned to my ears, "I love you too dad", then she left, and that's all I can remember.

Help me if you can I'm feeling down,
I can't seem to pick my pencil off the floor,
all my papers are scattered on the ground,
I can feel my magic talent walking out the door.

I was once the great Hemingway,
now I feel as alone and empty as Poe,
These streets are endless and I can't find a way,
now I realize that I am my only foe.

I could write like the romantic Neruda,
or narrate just as good as Thompson,
but I've been stranded on this beach Bermuda,
to inherit the kingdom of the long lost son.

Angel of poets please grant me more time,
give me enough inspiration to write once more,
just the right words to make her mine,
to let her know she's the one that I adore.

Salesman what books do you sell,
if I got the chance to meet you,
salesman what stories could you tell,
salesman if only you knew how much
I need you.

Tell me salesman about your past,
the other loves you might've had,
salesman why does beauty never last,
poor old salesman why are you always
so mad.

Salesman sometimes I need you,
I need your wisdom so bad,
salesman sometimes I miss you,
salesman they say you're my...

Ignorance and stupidity are both diseases,
ignorance can be cured with knowledge,
stupidity is terminal.

Your love is like an island,
and I'm an outcast in troubled waters,
your skin is the color of the sand,
but I don't think that matters.

Your hair is like the palm trees,
that stand tall against the tempest,
each one a warrior gliding between the breeze,
sharing a different story of loss and conquest.

Your eyes just like the ocean moon,
the ones I claimed were mine,
I prayed to see them soon,
sadly I never had the time.

Your hands were like the shore,
dragging me closer to your center,
and believe me you were all that I adored,
still I never dared to enter.

Your voice was like a mermaid's song,
that washed away my tears,
and although I was all alone,
it cleansed me from my fears.

You are the reason why I survived,
you were my ego you were my pride,
the only essence that kept me alive,
was knowing I had you by my side.

But when rescue came at last,
and took me back to bay,
I remained stranded in the past,
hoping to once more, be your castaway.

Darling I can't forget you,
I promise you I try,
I pretend I don't care about you,
but the longer I try, the more that I cry.

Love of mine I can't walk away,
I'm unable to stop calling your name,
I cannot simply go day by day,
with a hole in my heart making me lame.

Princess I'm scared,
terrified of the night,
because without you I'm bare,
you and only you were my light.

Sweetheart you're fading from me,
but maybe I already faded from you,
and that's the worst place to be,
in the shadows losing you.

I was looking at the night sky from a hill,
feeling the fresh breeze kissing my face,
with nothing running through my mind,
except for the portrait of you;
the one I keep on the right wall of my heart.

The moon looked like a giant disco ball,
and the heavens were the dance floors;
the passing satellites were microphones,
you and I were the dancers,
and the stars our record players.

We danced through the constellations,
forming love hearts with our feet.
The minutes became millenniums,
and it was just you and I,
dancing alongside the angels.

But a morning light began ascending,
and the sun arose from the horizon,
burning through the portrait of you:
The music stopped playing,
and my stars were dying out.

My dream became a nightmare,
but it was just reality waking me up,
I was alone in the mountain top.
And it saddened me to see,
you'll be happier without me.

Baby I've met someone else,
she has gorgeous dark hair;
she likes to hear all my tales,
I think we make a beautiful pair.

Baby her hand fits in mine,
just like yours did back then;
but maybe I'm wasting her time,
comparing her to you back when.

Baby she listens to the same music you do,
she even likes the same singer as you;
her favorite song is the one we danced to,
Oh baby, I'm still loving you.

They've cut your wings off or so you say,
to keep you trapped in this golden cage.
You've been a hostage day after day,
a prisoner of your fading age.

Oh bird of spring,
one day I'll set you free,
I'll pull that ring off from your feet,
and I'll write a melody for you to sing,
as you soar far above the trees.

Oh my sweet dove,
I promise you one day, but not today,
and some day soon, that I will say.
I'll loosen your string and change your tune,
and you'll fly so high towards the moon.

One day my friend you'll catch your train,
where you will find your love the third,
and Caesar's nephew to you will gird,
"But for the rainbow, first comes the rain",
and on that day you'll be a free bird.

I'll set you free my bird of spring,
it shall be just you and me.
But for now, keep on dreaming with the wind.

Love always ends in heartbreak,
be it a month, a year, a decade,
or a lifetime.
Love always ends in heartbreak,
one leaves, one cheats, one dies first,
but it will always end in heartbreak.
The point is how long we can prolong it.

Let me be the first to say that I was wrong,
that I'm gonna miss you for so long,
because I know you're not ever coming back,
and yet all I can do is play the same sad track.
I would never beg for you to stay,
so I'll just miss you another day;
the clock keeps moving and I'm running out of time,
sitting here wondering if you were ever mine,
and I'm dying for you to know,
just how much I love you so.
I could measure our romance,
if you just gave me one more chance;
I'd count the pebbles on a courtyard,
or the streetlights on the boulevard,
and you'd know I love you at that amount,
with strength so much more than I can count.
I see you on the reflection of mirrors on the walls,
and on the shadows, galloping down the halls.
Will you stay with me just a little longer?
At least until I can forget,
or until I feel a little stronger,
but not strong enough to regret.

My painter friend looked at me and laughed,
"I can't draw, I've told you that," I said.
"What a sad life to not be able to place your emotions on a canvas,"
he grinned.
"I don't paint but I write," I replied, "Want to know the difference?"
Intrigued he awaited for my answer,
"Your art is for the eye, but mine's for the heart."

She walked up to him carrying pieces of his heart,
"Please say something, I'm really sorry." She begged.
"What else is there to say? I'm done talking,
what's been done, has been done for the best,
and from now on, you're just one of the rest."

"Reincarnation is not real" I used to say,
You simply cannot come back from the dead,
I didn't believe it until this day,
seeing her standing there blew open my head.

God knows I loved that girl with all my heart;
I loved her for many centuries and I'll love her forever,
even the angels know that nothing can keep us apart.
I met her today in the park, we're entwined to be together.

I lost her many ages ago to her own hand,
her candle burned out by her own knife,
and I understood this world will never be her land,
so all I can do is wait for her in the next life.

She told me I love you then went away,
I couldn't stop her, I never would,
I simply smiled when I met her today,
and I know that although she's gone far away,
I'll see my love another day.

Oh padre mío, ¿Qué ha sido de ti?
Qué te ha hecho la vida,
te miras tan cansado ya,
Con tus ojos tristes llenos de recuerdos.
Veo tus errores marcados en las líneas
de tu frente,
siento en el choque de tu mano
como tiemblan tus huesos,
Tú me abrazas, pero tus brazos ya no tienen fuerza.

Oh padre mío, ¿Qué ha sido de ti?
Te fuiste en un día soleado con tus hombros
amplios y llenos de poder,
-me dejaste sonriendote-,
mientras las lágrimas de mi madre caían sobre mí.
Y ahora has vuelto con tus trapos
empapados con lluvia fría,
tus pies cortados y quemados por los fuegos que has cruzado;
te escucho y me hablas con una voz arrepentida.

Oh padre mío, ¿Qué ha sido de ti?
Mira tus dedos, tu mano izquierda,
donde una vez guardabas ese anillo de aquel amor,
que tanto afirmabas tener por mi madre,
ahora reemplazado por una oración.
El reloj en tu muñeca,
congelado en el tiempo en que te fuiste.
Padre soy tu hijo, mírame padre mío,
que soy tu en el espejo,
te entiendo y siento tu dolor,
Siento tu miseria,
tu tristeza y tu rencor.


Oh padre mío, ¿Qué ha sido de ti?
Han sido diecisiete años,
muchas cosas han pasado desde ayer,
ya no soy el niño que te miraba golpeando a tu propia mujer;
ya no soy el niño que dejaste de querer.
No te odio padre mío,
porque tú y yo somos tan diferentes
y tan iguales a la vez.
Padre yo soy tu hijo,
pero tu no eres mi padre.

Oh father of mine, what has been of you?
What has life done to you,
you seem so tired already,
with your sorrowful eyes filled with memories.
I see your mistakes marked on the lines
of your forehead,
I feel in the touch of your hand
how much your bones tremble;
you hold me but your arms no longer hold strength.

Oh father of mine, what has been of you?
You left on a sunny day with your shoulders
so broad and filled with power,
-you left me smiling-,
while my mother's tears fell on me.
And now you've returned with your rags
soaked with cold rain,
your feet cut and burned by the fires you have crossed,
I hear you speak to me with a repentant voice.

Oh father of mine, what has been of you?
Look at your fingers, your left hand,
where you once guarded that ring of a love,
a love you so claimed to have for my mother.
Now replaced by a prayer.
The watch on your wrist,
frozen on the time that you left,
father I am your son,
look at me father of mine,
for I am you in the mirror,
I understand and feel your pain;
I feel your misery,
your sadness, and your resentment.


Oh father of mine, what has been of you?
It's been seventeen years,
many things have happened since yesterday,
I'm no longer the child that saw you hitting your own wife;
I am no longer the child you ceased loving.
I don't hate you, father of mine,
because you and I are so different
yet so alike.
Father I am your son,
but you are not my father.

And as the curtain comes down,
and my show comes to an end;
as my unstrung ukulele finishes its last vibrato,
and with my eyes closed I can hear the sole spectator applauding.

I walk away covered by the smoke from my cigarette.
I exit the platform as the last candle remaining drowns on its own melted wax,
descending to the open arms of the bartender,
the wisest man one could ever meet, anyone's best friend.
He receives me with a welcoming smile, and without opening my lips he pours me my preferred nectar, awaiting for me to tell him my miseries for the small price of my weekly earnings.

Then it hits me, just as that candle burned out,
so have I, I have picked enough tulips to know that heaven has stood still long enough for me to make my way upstairs.
So I grab my instrument, light up another cigarette, and walk out the door,
to receive my sole spectator with open arms.

In the Garden of Gethsemane,
alone while the world stood against me.
I was your shield while you cried on my shoulder,
yet to you I was only worth 30 silver.

You came and kissed me on the cheek,
stabbing the last knife on my chest,
Et tu brute? Why? You too?

And how can I say I love you,
how do I put it in words,
when I draw my inspirations from sadness,
and for once I've found happiness,
in you.

I want to express my love for you in a thousand ways:
Claim I'll climb the highest mountain,
swim the deepest sea,
cross the biggest desert.
But that's a problem for me.

Like a god gets his powers from an elixir,
my ambrosia comes from sadness.
I'm not a happy ending kind of guy,
I write to death,
to losing,
to the defeated;
and for once you've changed all that.

But who cares if I can't write any longer,
who cares if I lost my touch.
I rather live happy having you,
than to write a million poems,
wanting so bad to hold you.

I'm happy that I have you,
and I just want you to know,
I love you.

The poet has put his pencil down;
the musician sat down his guitar.
He will no longer write with melancholy,
he will no longer sing the blues.

For he is too happy to be sad,
he's too free to keep the chains;
he's not sad and lonely anymore.
And she's the reason for his new hope.

He'll sing romance, he'll write sonnets.
He'll love and laugh and sing and cry,
but sadness will no longer meet his eye.
For he's too happy to sing the blues.

I am but a shadow,
a walking corpse;
my insides are hollow,
with a sense of remorse.

My body is so tense,
this life I don't cherish;
this journey is so dense,
I feel I may perish.

I search for distractions,
to cover the pain;
I use mere attractions,
but nothing I gain.

If I could hold that second for a millenia,
and hold your warmth around my own.
If I could make those lyrics and that song last an eternity,
Trust me honey that I would.

If I could freeze that dance floor and make us the only dancers,
If I could only tell you the thousands words I should've said,
recite the poem I had practiced instead of dumbly staring at your hazel eyes.
If I could've kissed your lips at least once more,
Honey trust me that I would.