.MÃrame y dime que ves,
Hablo del amor que murió...
No elegiré la opción que tu me das,
Sentarme y ver marchar>
A quien me hirió, a quien me hizo mal...
Pasan los años y tu sonrisa se va arrugando como una flor sin olor...
Siento la niebla mojar mi cara
.
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