Of all the flowers that we planted, only a few are left on fire. Every morning they ask, when will you come to sing to them? Of all the moons that we looked at, only a few memories remain. When we laughed, when we had each other. In the streets of Madrid drunk we went without a fixed course. When we danced, when we got lost. In that song that our old world together we understood. In that garden of fleeting roses where we shared. Of all the flowers that we planted, only a few are left on fire. Every morning they ask, when will you come to sing to them? Of all the moons that we looked at, only a few tears cry over seas. Like your caress, sweet as bitter. Delicious mornings, labyrinths in the early mornings. Like your caresses, soft as thorns. All this melancholy is nailed to my chest. In this garden of fleeting roses without your company. Of all the moons that we looked at together, only a few memories remain. When we laughed, when we had each other. In the streets of Madrid drunk we went without a fixed course. When we danced, when we got lost. In that song that our old world together we understood. In that garden of fleeting roses where we shared. In that garden of fleeting roses where we got lost. In that garden of fleeting roses without your company. In the garden of fleeting roses without your company. Thank you for watching!