Sabor a Mí (Taste of Me) - Chris Mitchell

Tanto tiempo disfrutamos de este amor Nuestras almas se acercaron, tanto así Que yo guardo tu sabor Pero tú llevas también Sabor a mí Si negaras mi presencia en tu vivir Bastaría con abrazarte y conversar Tanta vida yo te di Que por fuerza llevas ya Sabor a mí No pretendo ser tu dueña No soy nada, yo no tengo vanidad De mi vida, doy lo bueno Soy tan pobre, ¿qué otra cosa puedo dar? Pasarán mas de mil años, muchos más Yo no sé si tenga amor la eternidad Pero allá, tal como aquí En la boca llevarás Sabor a mí No pretendo ser tu dueña No soy nada, yo no tengo vanidad De mi vida, doy lo bueno Soy tan pobre, ¿qué otra cosa puedo dar? Pasarán mas de mil años, muchos más Yo no se si tenga amor la eternidad Pero allá, tal como aquí En la boca llevarás Sabor a mí Sabor a mí

Tanto tiempo disfrutamos de este amor Nuestras almas se acercaron tanto así Que yo guardo tu sabor Como tú llevas también Sabor a mí Si negaras mi presencia en tu vivir Bastaría con abrazarte y conversar Tanta vida yo te dí Que por fuerzas llevarás Sabor a mí No pretendo ser tu dueño No soy nada yo no tengo vanidad De mi vida doy lo bueno Soy tan pobre, que otra cosa puedo dar Pasarán mas de mil años, muchos mas Yo no sé si tenga amor la eternidad Pero allá, tal como aquí Y en la boca llevarás Sabor a mí No pretendo ser tu dueño No soy nada yo no tengo vanidad De mi vida doy lo bueno Soy tan pobre, que otra cosa puedo dar Pasarán mas de mil años, muchos mas Yo no sé si tenga amor la eternidad Pero allá, tal como aquí Y en la boca llevarás Sabor a mí Sabor a mí Sabor a mí Sabor a mí

I'm traveling in some vehicle I'm sitting in some cafe A defector from the petty wars That shell shock love away There's comfort in melancholy When there's no need to explain It's just as natural as the weather In this moody sky today In our possessive coupling So much could not be expressed So now i'm returning to myself These things that you and i suppressed I see something of myself in everyone Just at this moment of the world As snow gathers like bolts of lace Waltzing on a ballroom girl You know it never has been easy Whether you do or you do not resign Whether you travel the breadth of extremities Or stick to some straighter line Now here's a man and a woman sitting on a rock They're either going to thaw out or freeze Listen... Strains of benny goodman Coming thru' the snow and the pinewood trees I'm porous with travel fever But you know i'm so glad to be on my own Still somehow the slightest touch of a stranger Can set up trembling in my bones I know - no one's going to show me everything We all come and go unknown Each so deep and superficial Between the forceps and the stone Well i looked at the granite markers Those tribute to finality - to eternity And then i looked at myself here Chicken scratching for my immortality In the church they light the candles And the wax rolls down like tears There's the hope and the hopelessness I've witnessed thirty years We're only particles of change i know, i know Orbiting around the sun But how can i have that point of view When i'm always bound and tied to someone White flags of winter chimneys Waving truce against the moon In the mirrors of a modern bank >from the window of a hotel room I'm traveling in some vehicle I'm sitting in some cafe A defector from the petty wars Until love sucks me back that way

Three waitresses all wearing Black diamond earrings Talking about zombies And Singapore slings No trouble in their faces Not one anxious voice None of the crazy you get From too much choice The thumb and the satchel Or the rented Rolls-Royce And you think she knows something By the second refill You think she's enlightened As she totals your bill You say "Show me the way To Barangrill" Well some say it's in service They say "Humble Makes Pure" You're hoping it's near Folly 'Cause you're headed that way for sure And you just have to laugh 'Cause it's all so crazy Ah, her mind's on her boyfriend And eggs over easy It's just a trick on you Her mirrors and your will So you ask the truck driver On the way to the till But he's just a slave To Barangrill The guy at the gaspumps He's got a lot of soul He sings Merry Christmas for you Just like Nat King Cole And he makes up his own tune Right on the spot About whitewalls and windshields And this job he's got And you want to get moving And you want to stay still But lost in the moment Some longing gets filled And you even forget to ask "Hey, Where's Barangrill?"