Of course I know I have nothing left to say
Nothing to regret or to fail
I just have to buy now
Some red silk for my pain
With which to do it keep quiet
You have become a tall and desperate flower
Because it is your way of shouting that I would like
It happens that you can't make it
Like when you lose your man
Or your dog
Who knows, who knows what he's like
If he's like me, it's almost love
Who knows, who knows?   how is it
If it's like me it's almost love
Even your world will get old sooner or later
Now you're the verb that no one will use  
It happens to not make it
And to be the knife
And at the same time the wound
Who knows, who knows what it is like
If it is He's like me, he's almost love. Who knows, who knows what he's like? If he's like me, he doesn't have a heart.

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