So beautiful the memory
brought on by mere scent...

And they tell me
she's fleeting from beauty...

If you're sorry
be sorry...

You play my heart like a tense violin;
bent, twisted, strung off a step and a half below...

You play my heart like a tense violin;
bent, twisted, strung off a step and a half below...

If you're sorry
be sorry...

Her eyes are dead
not swollen shut...

If you're miles and miles away
are our thoughts still the same...

Mi querido,
te amo...