Nadie Modera...

You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie
You're in the arms of the Angel; may you find some comfort here

 

So tired of the straight line, and everywhere you turn
There's vultures and thieves at your back

 

The storm keeps on twisting, you keep on building the lies
That you make up for all that you lack

 

It don't make no difference, escaping one last time
It's easier to believe

 

In this sweet madness, oh this glorious sadness
That brings me to my knees

 

In the arms of the Angel far away from here
From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie
In the arms of the Angel; may you find some comfort here

 

You're in the arms of the Angel; may you find some comfort here

 

No quiero estar sin tí
si tú no estás aquí
me sobra el aire

 

no quiero estar así
si tú no estás la gente se hace nadie