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Do you tire me? of begging him,
do you get tired of me? to tell her
that I die for her
of sorrow
She no longer wanted to listen to me
if her lips opened
it was to tell me
now I don't love you.
I felt? that my life
was lost in an abyss
deep and black
like my luck.
I wanted to find oblivion
Jalisco style
but those mariachis
and that tequila
made me cry.
Do I get tired of it? to beg her
with tears in her eyes
alc? my glass
and toast? with her.
She couldn't despise me
it was the last toast
of a bohemian
with a queen.
The mariachis fell silent
from my hand without strength
he fell? my cup
without realizing it
She wanted to stay
when she saw my sadness
but it was already written
that she would lose her love that night of her.