Thursday

(Van Gogh's Ear)

If I were prettier
and a little smarter
If I were special,
If I were a magazine
I'd have the courage
To cross the wagon
And ask you: who are you?

You sit in front
And you can't even imagine
That I'm wearing, for you,
My prettiest skirt
And when I see you throw
a yawn into the glass
My pupils are flooded

Chorus
Suddenly you look at me
I look at you and you sigh
I close my eyes
You look away
I barely breathe,
I become tiny
And I start to tremble

And so the days go by,
from Monday to Friday
Like the swallows
of Becquer's poem
From season to season,
you and me across the street
Silence comes and goes

Chorus
Suddenly you look at me
I look at you and you sigh
I close my eyes
you look away
I barely breathe,
I become tiny
And I start to tremble

And then it happens,
my lips wake up
They pronounce your name
stuttering
I guess you think:
what a silly girl
And I want to die

But time stands still
And you come closer saying
"I don't know you yet
And I've missed you already
Every morning I refuse
the direct and I choose this train".

And we are arriving,
my life has changed
A special day this
March eleventh
You take my hand,
we arrive at a tunnel
That turns off the light

I find your face,
thanks to my hands
I become brave and
I kiss you on the lips
You say you love me
and I give you
The last breath
of my heart.