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 Que me importa el calvario 
Si amarte es sufrir, 
O que juegues con cartas marcadas. 
Lo que importa es las noches 
Pasadas en ti, 
Aunque a cambio me rompas el alma. 
?que me importa la vida! 
?de que sirve vivir 
Si me falta tu cuerpo caliente? 
Lo que importa es tocarte 
Y apagar esta sed, 
Que tan solo me apaga tu fuente. 
Que sin ti nada tiene valor, 
Y por eso soy tuyo, 
Esclavo y senor. 
Cosas del amor, 
Cosas de la vida 
Tu eres mi aguila real, 
Yo soy tu gacela herida. 
Cosas de tu carne, 
Cosas de tu piel, 
Que me arrastra por las olas 
Como barco de papel. 
Cosas del amor, 
Cosas de la vida 
Tu me haces el dolor 
Y me curas las heridas. 
Cosas de tu cuerpo, 
Cosas de mi voz 
Predicando en el desierto 
De tu absurdo corazon. 
?para que quiero aire 
Si respiro de ti? 
?para que quiero luz 
Ni ventanas? 
Si me basta sentirte amarrada a mi piel,  
Y saber que a tu modo me amas. 
Que me importa esperarte 
Una y mil veces mas 
Si al final tu me inundas el tiempo. 
Lo que importa es mirarte 
En silencio y saber 
Que tal vez sin tenerte 
Te tengo. 
Que sin ti nada tiene valor, 
Y por eso soy tuyo 
Esclavo y senor. 
Cosas del amor, 
Cosas de la vida 
Tu eres mi aguila real, 
Yo soy tu gacela herida. 
Cosas de tu carne, 
Cosas de tu piel, 
Que me arrastra por las olas 
Como barco de papel 
Cosas del amor, 
Cosas de la vida 
Tu me haces el dolor 
Y me curas las heridas. 
Cosas de tu cuerpo, 
Cosas de mi voz 
Predicando en el desierto 
De tu absurdo corazon. 
Things of love 
What does the calvary matter  
If to love you is to suffer  
Or that you play with marked cards 
What matters are the nights  
Spent with you,  
Even if in return you tear my soul 
What do I care about life? 
What's the point of living  
If I don't have your hot body? 
What matters is to touch you  
And to quench this thirst,  
That only your fountain quenches for me. 
Without you nothing has value,  
And for that I'm yours,  
Slave and gentleman 
Things of love 
Things of life 
You are my golden eagle 
And I'm your injured gazelle 
Things of your flesh 
Things of your skin 
That drags me through the waves 
Like a paper boat 
Things of love, 
Things of life 
You cause me pain and  
You heal my wounds 
Things of your body,  
Things of my voice 
Preaching in the desert  
About your absurd heart 
Why do I want air  
If I breath of you? 
Why do I want light  
Or windows  
If to feel you on my skin is enough  
And to know that you love me anyway 
What does it matter to wait for you a 
Thousand and one more times 
If in the end you eliminate the time 
What matters is to see you  
In silence and to know  
That perhaps without having you  
I have you. 
That with out you nothing has value  
And that's why I'm yours,  
Slave and gentleman 
Things of love 
Things of life 
You are my golden eagle 
And I'm your injured gazelle  
Things of your flesh 
Things of your skin 
That drags me through the waves 
Like a paper boat 
Things of love,  
Things of life 
You cause me pain and you  
Heal my wounds 
Things of your body,  
Things of my voice  
Preaching in the desert  
About your absurd heart 
 
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