[Instrumental]
Poem attached to the song:
There was a time in your life you relied purely on clairvoyants
Your husband died from a reason I still don’t know
Santiago and Petunia were your archrivals
I know many cases of troubled mother-children relationships
But I never came across one like this
Where the mother is the actual victim
You gave them everything
You transferred your lifestyle to them
They traveled, studied at the most prestigious of places
You bought them houses separated from the masses
So they became part of the elite of Buenos Aires
But they got lost in the spiderweb of ambition
They got rid of their origin and had their blood sucked
Félix, the youngest one, didn’t hate you, grandma
He just didn’t want to get in a war declared by the others
So, there they left you
Trapped in the highest apartment of that English building
Left with nothing but a wheelchair and the urge to reconstruct
You said a magician felt you were going to meet a man from Denmark
Somewhere in your area or abroad
But you couldn’t do it alone
Who would have helped you ride the streets looking for a tall foreign man your age?
Who would have run, in case he was found, to tell him his life was about to turn the next page?
That’s why you called me
You didn’t need a boy to help you with the cleaning, partly
You needed a fresh mind to complete your army
And finally write the book that you planned
Depicting the steps that we took to make it come true
All the fun that we had, too
I hope the clinic gave you a better wheelchair
The one they pay with money stolen from you
Poem attached to the song:
There was a time in your life you relied purely on clairvoyants
Your husband died from a reason I still don’t know
Santiago and Petunia were your archrivals
I know many cases of troubled mother-children relationships
But I never came across one like this
Where the mother is the actual victim
You gave them everything
You transferred your lifestyle to them
They traveled, studied at the most prestigious of places
You bought them houses separated from the masses
So they became part of the elite of Buenos Aires
But they got lost in the spiderweb of ambition
They got rid of their origin and had their blood sucked
Félix, the youngest one, didn’t hate you, grandma
He just didn’t want to get in a war declared by the others
So, there they left you
Trapped in the highest apartment of that English building
Left with nothing but a wheelchair and the urge to reconstruct
You said a magician felt you were going to meet a man from Denmark
Somewhere in your area or abroad
But you couldn’t do it alone
Who would have helped you ride the streets looking for a tall foreign man your age?
Who would have run, in case he was found, to tell him his life was about to turn the next page?
That’s why you called me
You didn’t need a boy to help you with the cleaning, partly
You needed a fresh mind to complete your army
And finally write the book that you planned
Depicting the steps that we took to make it come true
All the fun that we had, too
I hope the clinic gave you a better wheelchair
The one they pay with money stolen from you
( Aarn Jkullsson )
www.ChordsAZ.com