Текст и перевод песни Pitbulking - Literatura

Literatura

Mire obscureser te ame con todo el ser
Quiso anocheser pero fue lusifer
Intendo tejer... me el alma pude ver
Estaba en la pared agonisando sin poder mover un solo pie
Ser o no ser es la pregunta

Sonrrei mirando al cielo con los parpados caidos por desbelo
Insomnio no lo se solo se que sigo enfermo victima de la ausencia del sueño
Ohhh querido subsconciente gracias por aser menos pasiente pero mas valiente
Este corazon con bertebras que inspiran a la muerte
La muerte una ves mas,,,,,,, quiere hacer una visita aqui en mi hogar
No lo se con sertesa solo lo presiento,,,,,, es por eso que me siento muy inquieto

Sentirse superiores por leer o descrivir un simple libro no tiene sentido
Pero tiene sentido ponerse al mismo ritmo del latido del escritor vivido
Cuando criticamos sin sentido creamos con el tiempo un perfil percudido

Es un espejo que refleja lo que mas odiamos dentro de nosotros
Pero al darnos cuenta no sentimos como mounstruos
Somos incredulos sin amor tomandonos el papel de un autor
Cobrando sin motivo aun que solo por enojo alguna favor

Leer literatura no me buelbe un ser humano increible
Solo hace mas visible mi lado sensible y es inconfundible
La inspiracion se reconose a simple vista aun que es inpredesible
Virtiendose en un vortise de la mente inconciente para siempre

Terminando de leer otra novela
A casi desmallar estando en vela

Mire a la soledad asercandose sin piedad
Pero pudo recordad que ya teniamos amistad
De tiempos pasados y presentes
Me conto que le teme mucha gente
Acostumbrada a la presencia de otra mente
Voltie sonrriente y le propuse acompaniarme
En el rincon de este pensamiento inerte

Siempre espero preguntas
Aun que algunas son tontas otras son astutas
Se preguntan por que siempre hablo de cielo
Y esque me gusta pensar a donde ire despues de mi entierro

No sea si sea asi...

Literature

I looked at it, my love with all my being
She wanted to spend the night but it was Lucifer
I tried to weave... I could see my soul
She was agonizing on the wall, unable to move a single foot
To be or not to be is the question

I smiled looking at the sky with my eyelids fallen from sleeplessness
Insomnia, I don't know, I only know that I'm still sick, a victim of the absence of sleep
Ohhh my dear subconscious, thank you for making me less patient but more courageous
This heart with vertebrae inspires death
Death once more, wants to pay a visit here in my home
I don't know for sure, I just feel it,,,,,, that's why I feel very restless

Feeling superior for reading or describing a simple book makes no sense
But it makes sense to get to the same rhythm as the heartbeat of the writer experienced
When we criticize without sense, we create a shabby profile over time

It is a mirror that reflects what we hate most within ourselves
But when we realize it, we don't feel like monsters
We are unbelievers without love taking on the role of an author
Charging for no reason even though just out of anger for some favor

Reading literature doesn't make me an incredible human being
It only makes my sensitive side more visible and is unmistakable
Inspiration is recognized at a glance, though it is unpredictable
Pouring into a vortex of the unconscious mind forever

Finishing reading another novel
Nearly fainting while staying awake

I watched loneliness approaching without mercy
But I was able to remember that we already had a friendship
From times past and present
She told me that many people fear her
Accustomed to the presence of another mind
I turned smiling and asked her to accompany me
In the corner of this inert thought

I always expect questions
Even though some are silly, others are clever
They wonder why I always talk about heaven
And that's because I like to think about where I'll go after my funeral

I don't know if it's like this...