Torquemada & the birds in Hell

Everything started like a game of girls


a game for me and you and you in mornings and noons, and after noons
a game, flying, balcony to balcony, window to window, 
a game burning living flesh at the stake, village to village, town to town; where we are now?

What's this place my love? This Barathrum.


Life and death, all together in a single instant saw that sky, which was manna and azúcar, closing the doors to our eyes, while the pious voice announced a merciful fate:

"Don't put your hopes too high".




Why our wings were mutilated and we were transfigured in human faces? 
Why our human body was mutilated and we were aquiline vertigo into The Pits. Are we alive? 

This infernal region is not imaginary, and it's not infernal, but confusion
the Acheron where the prodigal lovers burn, The Pits.



Because my life is asleep, my love. 
And I cannot go back to the egg that gave me life.


Why our wings grew again, green & blue, and our brains knew the anguish of the man and the woman? 
Why our human torso and veins and head flourished again from the tree of the... mystery 
mystery to me, mystery to you, in this country of the Gehenna


how to explain the pain of this song, my love?
How, when our mind is one with the inquisitor: 
one mind, and one feel, which are one with this Hell of impotence

The Hell is The Birds / The Birds are The Human
The Human is The Birds / The Birds are The Hell





won't you cry me a river? Please cry me a river to alleviate this nightmare
into another nightmare

and another
and yet another one.

Don't think I don't know that you have to hurt me
yes, I have to hurt me





Because the worst of all this is that we're alive.

























I remember that everything started like a game of girls.