"when i was five or six my father would look out the window
but he wasnt a widower he was looking at me
playing my games and saying my name with my heart in my chest
it was so cool to be cool
and i havent been on that street since i was seventeen
i dont know where they are, are they doing alright
and my toy and my balls and my drugs are all gone
but the memmories remain
i keep them locked in my heart for a while while i retunr to that dead end street
if you haD THE inclinations put my memory in suspension
and treat your own mind to recall
that all children are children and the grown ups dont fear us
but they fear that we all take a fall, in the end
now im a grown up and feel, that my life is tsanding still
and if het real quiet il die
so the silnece seems to come and i feel an itch in my tongue
to say the sings i will tell you now
go back home, where your heart belongs, i will go back to play to my dead end street"
FERNANDO BOCADILLOS (AR) :
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