Hoy tengo la mirada vuelta atrás...

Vacate is the word...vengeance has no place on me or her
Cannot find the comfort in this world
Artificial tear...vessel stabbed...next up, volunteers
Vulnerable, wisdom can't adhere...
A truant finds home...and a wish to hold on...
But there's a trapdoor in the sun...

Immortality...

As privileged as a whore...victims in demand for public show
Swept out through the cracks beneath the door
Holier than thou, how?
Surrendered...executed anyhow
Scrawl dissolved, cigar box on the floor...
A truant finds home...and a wish to hold on too...
He saw the trapdoor in the sun...

I cannot stop the thought...I'm running in the dark...
Coming up a which way sign...all good truants must decide...
Oh, stripped and sold, mom...auctioned forearm...
And whiskers in the sink...
Truants move on...cannot stay long
Some die just to live...
Ohh...