And, what if...
.
.

Looking out from the dust,
helping out to cook the sound of the second round.
Trying tough to disappear
from the midst and not spend all the air.

I handle the mundane,
(While,) you try as hard as you can to sort the universe.
So, here I am, saving your place,
I Keep warmed your seat… and for free?.

And, what if I get tired of waiting?
If this pain grows old with me,
If what scares me is to stop being afraid?

And What if I can forget your voice,
If I stop to call this place "home"?
if you have already done it?

Give up the game, untie the knot,
Find me there, wherever the spring flows from scratch.
I could be wrong, but it couldn't be worst,
I'm sure 'cause here there's only silence and cold.

On this journey, Creation flirts with the "not to be"

And what, if I get bored of watching
Of patrol the screen,
Of ask me if you do it on the other side?

What if I get used to this emptyness,
if I get tired of being weary,
if I stop needing you?

So far I must say that I don't surrender.
That I keep talking even to your ghost.
That, even with no reason, I refuse that it's over.
That it hurts me so that it keeps me alive.