The Hopeless

by Luis Ullán
(Salamanca, Spain)

And now we fall, forever sick and lonely,
into a disposable eternal love,
embraced by arms without glory.
Where every tear can be found
where there is no poison, no Juliet,
dreams are lonely dark clouds
and Romeo´s corpse will never be found.

We crawl on the streets of love
while hands break and pain shows,
looking for a reason while sunshine mourns
beneath the dirty, secret wounds
of the couple that came from the cold.
Looking for salvation on this cruel, filthy love.
Turning ourselves into evil, loving wolves.

Because in the end it's all about hope.
Because in the end it's all about us.