I came from the North looking for a song and a cross,
and I passed by a comet, and you were in its trail.
In Madrid it'd still be raining, gloomy like I left it,
and in Santiago1 with your lights and its November I got burned.
And it happened after a concert, one evening at your university,
there I found you again, "Come carretear2 with me".
"I gladly accept your offer, with one condition only:
that this night never ends and that I don't fall in love".
Walking by La Alameda3, you started telling me,
of causes, chances and strifes, in these days and walking
by La Moneda4, you hummed Jara5.
You looked at me, "So tough like that, you remind me of Guevara6".
And we entered a club and someone inside sung something of Fito7.
"At this rate I'll fall in love, I just need one more pisco8".
"Quit that nonsense, go up there and sing me one of Silvio's9".
"Only if you give me a kiss", and everyone sung along.
We left the club drunk, holding hands,
and the pacos10, as usual, were fucking around in the street.
You shouted at them "Murderers!", and we both dashed.
You laughed, and in your laughter I saw myself fall.
But, "where have you been all this time? It's getting late, go home".
And in your embrace from far way, I thought I heard Los Parra11,
singing for us. I better go.
There I was, alone, crying out, without you, "Te recuerdo, Amanda12".
"Te recuerdo, Amanda".
In time I reached my North with a song and a cross,
with a comet's trail, with your lies and your light.
In Madrid it was still raining, just like I left it,
and in Santiago so many things, now I'm dying to go back.
Now I'm dying to go back.