And Yet I Love You (Olga Romn intro) – Lyrics and Videoclip of And Yet I Love You (Olga Romn intro) by Joaqun Sabina

They told me a thousand times
But I never wanted to pay attention
when the cries came
you were already deep in my heart,
I was waiting for you until very late,
I did not blame you,
the most I asked you
it was that if you loved me,
and under your kisses, at dawn,
without you noticing the cross of my anguish used to sing
I love you more than my eyes,
I love you more than my life,
more than the air that I breathe and more than the sea of ​​mine,
let my pulses stop if I stop loving you,
May the bells bend me if I ever miss you
you are my life and my death,
I swear mate,
I shouldn’t have loved you
I shouldn’t have loved you
and however, I love you…

You know very well that you are the first,
that I am not lying if I swear that I would give my whole life for you,
for you the whole life;
and yet for a while, every day,
you see, I would cheat on you
with anyone,
I’d trade you for anyone

Neither so sorry nor delighted
having met me, I confess.
You who have kissed so much
you who have taught me,
you know better than me than to the bone
only kisses penetrate
that you have not given,
the lips of sin.

Because a house without you is an ambush,
the corridor of an early morning train,
a maze
without light or red wine,
a veil of tar in the look.

And the kisses that I’m giving poison me
and yet when
I sleep without you I dream of you
and with all of them if you sleep next to me,
and if you go I’ll go over the rooftops
like a cat without an owner
lost in the handkerchief of bitterness
that tarnishes your beauty without staining it.

I shouldn’t tell it and yet
when I ask for a hotel key
I order already midnight
a good french champagne
and dinner with candles for two,
it’s always with another, love,
never with you,
well you know what i say.

Because a house without you is an office,
a burning phone in the booth,
a palm tree
in the wax museum,
an exodus of dark swallows.

And when you come back there is a party
in the kitchen
and dances without an orchestra
and bouquets of roses with thorns,
but two is not the same as one plus one
and on Monday to breakfast coffee
the cold war returns
and to the sky of your mouth purgatory
and to the bedroom
the daily bread.