To the beat of our noisy hearts

Cuánta bipolaridad encima.
Y mientras espero que alguien detenga esta calesita sube-y-baja (quizás alguna vez logre bajarme, pero nunca sin ayuda; una pena, porque seguramente «sin ayuda» sea la única forma de «bajarse»), escucho.

Por favor, cuánto me gusta Matt Nathanson.

Cuánto me gusta escuchar a Matt Nathanson.

Wait here for me, and I'll be back for more...

Bits and pieces

Here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide:

Break these walls
and let the choir sing
'Cause every song is just a tin can
with strings to you

(Just 'cause you feel it, doesn't mean it's there)

The loudest secret

This won't end well.

It just. Won't.

(And home is nowhere)