To travel (Viajar) - Lucybell (Chile)

To travel,
through your pores,
is not the air
what makes me speak,
is your laugh.

To travel,
is not the air
what makes me speak,
is your laugh.

And I'll roam seeding by the coast
and once I return, my sharp tongue
will know how to prune the false.

To travel,
through your blood,
is not the softness
what makes me tremble,
is your laugh.

To travel...
is not the softness
what makes me tremble,
is your laugh.

And I'll roam seeding by the coast
and once I return, my sharp tongue
will know how to prune...

And I'll roam seeding by the coast
and once I return, my sharp tongue
will know how to prune the false,
all the false.

And I'll roam seeding by the coast
and once I return, my sharp tongue
will know how to prune the false,
all the false.

And I'll roam...
And I'll roam...
And I'll roam...