SARAH BRIGHTMAN - T



T, sin ms porqu,
T que bsame,
T me tienes de furriel,
De un roto de tu piel.

T, como la cal,
Que hmeda es mortal,
T, blanqueas mi razn,
Calando hasta el colchn.

T, t, t, t.
T, t, t, t.

T, t, t, montada en m,
Yo, motura hostil,
T, me abrazas con los pies,
Y yo lamo el arns.

T, y sin ti yo no.
T, y sin ti ya no.
T, me has hecho dimitir,
Y hoy yo se dice asi:

T, t, t, t.
T, t, t, t.
T, t, t.

T, t, t, t.
T, t, t, t.
T, t, t, t.
T, t, t.

[English translation:]

You, with no reason at all
You, kiss me
You got me feeding
A broken part of your skin

You, as the lime
Which, when wet, is mortal
You whiten my senses
Soaking to the mattress

You, you, you, you
You, you, you, you

You, you, you, riding on me
Me, hostile rider
You hold me with your feet
And I lick the harness

You, and without you not me
You, and without you no more
You've made me resign
and today by me you say:

You, you, you...




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