Del Más Acá
Ella abre la puerta del más acá
Y me dice
Vayamos de a par
Ella habla, ingenua
Y me dice
Que aun vive de mi presente
Lleva un traje
Azul domingo
Y se viste de sur conmigo
Presente, sabor ausente
Presente, sabor ausente
Ella mira su vida, de a ratos
Y convida un beso a mi olfato
Se cierra la tarde enseguida
Aun guarda un refugio la herida
Lleva un traje
Azul domingo
Y se viste de sur conmigo
Presente, sabor ausente
Presente, sabor ausente
Y me dice
Vayamos de a par
Ella habla, ingenua
Y me dice
Que aun vive de mi presente
Lleva un traje
Azul domingo
Y se viste de sur conmigo
Presente, sabor ausente
Presente, sabor ausente
Ella mira su vida, de a ratos
Y convida un beso a mi olfato
Se cierra la tarde enseguida
Aun guarda un refugio la herida
Lleva un traje
Azul domingo
Y se viste de sur conmigo
Presente, sabor ausente
Presente, sabor ausente
Credits
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