Old me, I've been looking for you
for your naive thoughts, clean feelings, pure heart,
trustful words, sweet eyes,
and even for your immature comments.
Sometimes, hopes talk about you
and smiles remember your good friendship,
the one you used to be.
Old me, when did you get lost?
Where did you go?
I've lost count of the times I've seen you
You just disappear as vapor or fog.
Why did you decide to put your arms down
Who should I blame?
I know you are afraid to comeback,
Strength and trust you lack.
Old me, I'm calling your name,
awake from your sleep.
Twenty four years looking for perfection
But all I’ve gotten is rejection.
Refusing to believe
I know they always deceive.
Twenty four years and my heart has been broken up
Like bubbles, sometimes, they just pump up.
My world has been crushed down
But my head has faced the town.
Twenty four years and I’m still waiting,
but now, I feel like hating.
I want to be hold
Cause I see my hopes to get old.
Twenty four years and no one has really fought
Some of them, misery have brought.
Incapable is how I feel
And It doesn’t feel real.
Twenty four years and I still wonder
Is there any thunder?
Someone who can leave everything to follow my soul
Dry my tears and give me console.
Twenty four years and I don’t know what I lack
That they always take their promises back.
Incapable of being loved
It’s not something I feel proud of.
Yet in the plane, a bitter taste in my mouth, my heart beat risen,
everything getting even worse -- the feeling of escaping.
Escape to know a whole new world,
from leaving my dusty country boots,
changing my culture, language, sceneries, people
but mostly, taking off the mask of a girl and changing it for a woman's.
A woman without parents, friends, siblings,
A woman alone in the big apple.
I left my little South American city, Valdivia,
arrived to the world's cosmopolitan capital.
I changed my rural roads, covered in dust
for streets with thousands of modern vehicles.
The wooden houses were now impressive buildings,
and the echo of a flummox 2009
got sometimes confused with millions of voices, accents,
faces, skin colors, souls.
It was a year spent in the most popular city
where countries around the world meet as brothers
where avenues separate china from Italy
and where a huge park looked like home.
For a whole year green trees were changed for green signs,
People -- walking souls -- always in a rush
It was New York the city where my memories were left
and it is Valdivia were I bring them back.