Que me importa el Calvario si amarte es sufrir, o que juegues con cartas marcadas. Lo que importa es las noches pasadas en ti, aunque a cambio me rompas el alma. ?Que me importa la vida! ?De que sirve vivir si me falta tu cuerpo caliente? Lo que importa es tocarte y apagar esta sed, que tan solo me apaga tu fuente. Que sin ti nada tiene valor, y por eso soy tuyo, esclavo y senor. Cosas del amor, cosas de la vida: Tu eres mi aguila real, yo soy tu gacela herida. Cosas de tu carne, cosas de tu piel, que me arrastra por las olas como barco de papel. Cosas del amor, cosas de la vida: tu me haces el dolor y me curas las heridas. Cosas de tu cuerpo, cosas de mi voz predicando en el desierto de tu absurdo corazon. ?Para que quiero aire si respiro de ti? ?Para que quiero luz ni ventanas? Si me basta sentirte amarrada a mi piel, y saber que a tu modo me amas. Que me importa esperarte una y mil veces mas si al final tu me inundas el tiempo. Lo que importa es mirarte en silencio y saber que tal vez sin tenerte te tengo. Que sin ti nada tiene valor, y por eso soy tuyo esclavo y senor. Cosas del amor, cosas de la vida: Tu eres mi aguila real, yo soy tu gacela herida. Cosas de tu carne, cosas de tu piel, que me arrastra por las olas como barco de papel Cosas del amor, cosas de la vida: tu me haces el dolor y me curas las heridas. Cosas de tu cuerpo, cosas de mi voz predicando en el desierto de tu absurdo corazon. Things of Love What does the Calvary matter if to love you is to suffer Or that you play with marked cards What matters are the nights spent with you, even if in return you tear my soul What do I care about life? What's the point of living if I don't have your hot body? What matters is to touch you and to quench this thirst, that only your fountain quenches for me. Without you nothing has value, and for that I'm yours, slave and gentleman Things of love Things of life You are my golden eagle And I'm your injured gazelle Things of your flesh Things of your skin That drags me through the waves like a paper boat Things of love, Things of life You cause me pain and you heal my wounds Things of your body, things of my voice preaching in the desert about your absurd heart Why do I want air if I breath of you? Why do I want light or windows if to feel you on my skin is enough and to know that you love me anyway What does it matter to wait for you a thousand and one more times If in the end you eliminate the time What matters is to see you in silence and to know that perhaps without having you I have you. That with out you nothing has value and that's why I'm yours, slave and gentleman Things of love Things of life You are my golden eagle And I'm your injured gazelle Things of your flesh Things of your skin That drags me through the waves like a paper boat Things of love, Things of life You cause me pain and you heal my wounds Things of your body, things of my voice preaching in the desert about your absurd heart
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