pequena pero con fuerza
esta importante que pueden olerte
mares ocupadas, muchos sentidos
a veces no puedes oler a ti misma.
pero yo se que tienes una tierra distinta
eres el primo a la rusa
y a veces tomando el pelo
como a disfrazar travieso.

no lo se si puedo confiarte?
imagino si me permito a nadar en tus lagos
chupar tus dulces y dormir de bajo de tus ojos
yo podria vivir con intensidad.
pero tal vez demasiado?

no eres la pais primero en la linea
de los tropes ni los amantes buscando
para adrenalina, en las noches con ojos abiertos
quizas es un razon que tu tierra
parece comoda para mi a dormir. un ilusion
mientras tu duchas a encontrar tu voz
al lado de tu primo enorme
quiero confiarte
que tu pais puede ser diferente
pero mucho mas agradable para mis pies

when i know a little more of you
i feel less afraid. i hate that the world is divided by clocks
and leaves some of us feeling left behind.
i'm hoping you'll catch up with me,
that you can see beauty in progression
while i'll better understand the art of patience
in this fast-paced world

i promise to talk about myself a little less
and listen to you more. give you room to talk
since i'm always talking louder. blah blah blah,
in one ear and out. i'll hold it in and contemplate it
this time. cradle the silence and let you speak
for there's no point in getting nervous
i like the sound of your voice anyway.

until then i hope you see i'm trying
not to lose my spark and get swallowed whole
by my own stupid insecurities over loving and folding
up the chair when the game is over.
there's only so much losing one can take
before it starts feeling necessary.
this time i won't be so quick to fold, i'll sit back
and wait for your next move.
i hope you like the sound of that

i can't help it.
this whole thing feels like music to me
the way you move, the way you touch me.
i'm hesitant to say no, leaning toward yes
then again and again.
what happened? sundays used to be so boring.

lion in a cage, docile, soft and cuddly
it all feels so natural, that's it
i feel so natural, don't i?
i'm not pretending. but i'm scared to relax,
you might flex your claws
and haunt me till you're forgotten.

that's the best thing about the blues,
the way you can tell a conflict the moment it comes
sensually rolling off her tongue, torchy torch.
keep playing this song while sundays become good again
and let's ignore the less-wanted outcome