A ver cuando vuelvo

"Y que voy a hacer con mi despiste selectivo
y con mi sueño frustrado de aprender a cocinar
y que voy a hacer con los domingos
y feriados ningun plan es apropiado
cuando intento no pensar

Que me inventare para decirle al mundo entero
si me ven tumbada al suelo
y sin mas ganas de volar
como escondo este par de alas rotas
y las suelas de mis botas cansadas de caminar

Yo quiero que vuelvas
yo quiero que regreses
ya ves que hasta mis manos
de tanto no tocarte me duelen....me duelen

Y que voy a hacer si mi barbilla lega al piso
y aunque intente la sonrisa no me sale natural
si ya me han visto con la mirada perdida
unas cuantas libras menos
y unas lagrimas de mas

....Yo quiero que regreses
Si sabias que eras para mi
Y siempre quisiste estar aqui
Aun no entiendo como, cuando, donde,
Ni porque te perdi, yo no se vivir asi"

There are times, places, voices, sights, faces, traces, lines, cars, colors, shapes and sounds that make me myself. You see...Although I like flying, there's one flight that took a part of my heart away. A part of my life... and gave me another part, another life. A strange life at the beginning, then familiar, but still foreign to my skin. So when I go over the clouds I look at them and dream of the flight that makes me whole again. The flight that brings me home. Wherever that may be now.
The thing is, I'm afraid I'm living in images stored in my mind, and I'm afraid I'm living in a skin that fell off me long ago. It doesn't matter how much I try to make this home.... four seasons, layered clothing, snow, freezing rain, flowers in the spring....it'll never be home because I'm not welcomed. Home is where you're welcomed....all the time....no conditions.
I'm a Veranera trying to bloom in a four-seasons climate.