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She is Lola and has story, more than story...
Could be a poem
Her whole life was looking for glory nights
Like a soul in hurt
Behind her clothes of a cold woman
Has a hidden weapons
For the battles of the "face to face"
with very good advantage
It went so bad, hand in hand
from mouth to mouth, from bed to bed
as a doll that gets old
Stays old and hurted
Hear me my Lola, my sweet Lola
Your sad life is your sad story
but what a way to walk
Look at that soberby in your eyes
Hear me my Lola, my sweet Lola
Your sad life is your sad story
but what a way to walk
Look at that soberby in your eyes
Hear me my Lola, my sweet Lola
Your sad life is your sad story
Was a easy woman, until the time
To borrow her body to her lovers
It's cry time, it's doubt time
Of nostalgic and madness
You have the solace, of knowing full of
Of clean and true love
Because no one couldn't know to valorate your kisses
That that you have and no ones wants
Hear me my Lola, my sweet Lola
Your sad life is your sad story
but what a way to walk
Look that pride in her look
Hear me my Lola, my sweet Lola
Your sad life is your sad story
but what a way to walk
Look that pride in her look
Hear me my Lola, my sweet Lola
Your sad life is your sad story
It's time of the old skin, that doesn't sorry
It's time of the fruit
And the painting
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