Tuesday is normally my “lazy” day, but I experienced a lot of ups and downs yesterday.

Started out with my third trip to immigration for my ACR (Alien Certificate of Registration) card. It took them a while fingering through stacks of cards, but at last, they found mine. One less thing to worry about as I begin planning my required departure, probably in November.

The next stop was the Royal supermarket on my weekly grocery run. The store frequently has certain items with markdown/sale pricing. For example, yesterday, they had Marie Callender frozen pot pies for 30% off. That brought the price down to $3.60 (yes, they use dollar amounts for imported goods), and I decided to buy one for old times’ sake. I’m not sure why but for some reason, I made a mental note to watch the cashier scan my pie to make sure I was getting the discount. My intuition proved correct because it rang up at the full price. I pointed out that the pie was on sale, and the cashier called the floor supervisor over. The supervisor sent the bagger to verify the price, and I engaged in some frustrated banter about scamming customers with fake discounts. Yeah, I went there, although I did remain calm and spoke in a normal voice. When the bagger came back with the correct price, the supervisor started to manually ring up the purchase, but I stopped her and said, “I don’t want it now.” It was the least I could do. In the future, I will keep all “sale” items together in my cart and watch the prices on the register to make sure I’m really getting the discount. And yes, I know I was only being ripped off for $1.50, but it is the principle of the matter.

After I got back from my Royal adventure, I headed over to Dr. Jo’s office. The appointment was for my friend Bhel’s daughter and a follow-up visit for her son (blood work). I had volunteered to pay the doctor’s fees for Bhel. I arrived a little early, so I treated myself to lunch downstairs at Angel’s Bakery.

Bhel arrived with her kids right on time, so I joined them upstairs. Dr. Jo invited me to sit in on the consultation, but I demurred, saying I was only there to pay the bill. I’m not sure what medical issues her 13-year-old daughter might be dealing with, but I do know that’s none of my business, and prefer giving the family their privacy. Dr. Jo’s husband joined me in the waiting area, and we had a nice chat. They are in the process of moving into a rental property in Alta Vista. I told him about my potential forthcoming move, and we somehow got on the subject of the UK healthcare system (he’s not impressed). I asked if he’d ever seen House, MD, and he said he had not. That surprised me, but he said medical dramas have so many inaccuracies that he’s grown weary of watching them. When the session with Dr. Jo was complete, Bhel came out with a prescription. I asked Dr. Jo how much the bill was; she said, “no charge.” I persisted, and she insisted there was nothing owed. I’m sure she was just being generous; I always paid a fee for my consultations. She’s a good woman and a good doctor with a good heart. Thanks for that! I gave Bhel 2000 pesos to fill her prescriptions, then headed back home.

My part-time helper who lives downstairs gave birth to a daughter this week. My helper’s name is Geraldine, she goes by Inday, and her Hash moniker is Cum In My Basement. It wasn’t me, but somebody obviously did. Actually, her live-in boyfriend has assumed his fatherly responsibilities.

My mountain mama friend messaged me with a plea to let her perform massage services. She was especially desperate this week because her daughter has a birthday coming. Well, I’m here to help, and it turned out to be one of the best massages ever.

Just before I headed out for the evening, I heard from Cathy, the adopted mother of the boy I sponsor at school in Bohol. She advised that Eithan had been promoted from a Cub Scout to a Boy Scout, and so he needed a new uniform. Sure, why not? I wired her the money she required to make the purchase.

So, with my good deeds completed for the day, I headed out to support the local bars and the girls who work in them. I started at It Doesn’t Matter and sat with my regular there, Agnes. I started feeling hungry, so I ordered a chicken burger, and Agnes went with chicken fingers. They do a good job for a bar kitchen.

I tend to like to move around some, so after the meal, I paid up and headed out. I hadn’t been to Blue Butterfly in quite a while, so I hoofed it on over there to see how my friend Tee was doing. I prefer the outside area, and as I entered, I received a warm greeting from the gals sitting around waiting for customers. One of them told me she’d go fetch Tee, so I sat down at my favorite table, expecting Tee to bring my beer. Instead, I was served by another gal who knew me, but I didn’t recall her at all. She mentioned that we had met at the old T-Rose bar, but it still didn’t ring a bell. When I confessed that I didn’t even know her name, she seemed genuinely disappointed. “I’m Jo; you really don’t remember?” Sorry. About this time, Tee came out and stood beside the table (there were only two chairs). I chatted up Tee, asked when she’d be returning to the Hash, and the usual how you been talk. Jo didn’t take the hint to leave, so I figured I’d be entertaining two gals (not that unusual). Then Tee just walked away without a word. Saw her briefly chat with the girls on the other side of the patio, then she went back inside the bar. WTF was that all about? I was down to my last swig of beer and had intended to have a second and order two lady drinks for the girls. Instead, I just paid my tab, tipped Jo, and left. I don’t have any reason to return to Blue Butterfly now.

There are always other options, and I had another “buy one, take one” coupon for Hot Zone. I was a little surprised when my friend, the door girl, didn’t follow me inside. I soon discovered why–some two-week millionaire had every single girl inside the bar surrounding him at his table. And it wasn’t just lady drinks he was buying–he had a shitload of food delivered from Sit-n-Bull as well. To their credit, a waitress would always come over to serve me when needed. I tried to have a drink sent outside to the door girl (she couldn’t come inside because there was no one available to take her place) and was told that she had one waiting for her from Mr. Rich Guy. Okay, good. Everyone was taken care of, and I could give my wallet a rest.

I chatted with owner Jay for a bit; then he went out to walk his dogs. A bit later, a group of bikers (The Mad Dogs from Angeles) came in. They took up seats around the empty dance stage with “now what?” looks on their faces. You know, I get it. The girls love the big spenders, and I’m sure it is good for the bar’s bottom line. That guy with the deep pockets spent more in the hour I was there than I might do in a month, and I’m on the generous side of the scale. Still, there were eight or nine other customers in a girly bar with no available girls. Not sure what, if anything, you can do about that.

And while all of this drama was going on, I got a message from my helper that the water pump wasn’t working. I messaged my landlord in Singapore, and he responded that he was sending a plumber. Then an hour or so later, I heard back from the helper that the next-door neighbor had inadvertently turned off my water at the meter, thinking it was his. And yes, it was the plumber who discovered this fuck up. I felt bad for having put the landlord through this unnecessary expense and hassle, but honestly, I would have never even thought to check the meter. Oh, well.

I intended Green Room to be my final destination on the night, but it was packed with pool players for league night, and I didn’t see anywhere to sit. I shrugged and moved next door to Wet Spot. Thankfully I didn’t see Marga working, and I think Aine is long gone now, but I sat at the manager’s table and chatted with a couple of folks I know. A bit later, my favorite Green Room waitress appeared and was thirsty for a lady drink. They have an arrangement between the two bars that staff can join customers in either location and still earn commissions on drinks. I actually think that’s a good arrangement for both patrons and employees. Still, it seemed a little strange to be drinking with a Green Room waitress while my Wet Spot waitress looked on. So, I erased that discomfort by buying her a drink too. Then the cute little bartender caught me giving her the eye, so I smiled and sent her a drink as well. Yeah, I might have been a little drunk at this point.

Still, it was only a little after 8:00 p.m. when I caught a trike for home. And then I proceeded to eat almost the whole half gallon of the irresistible Butterfinger ice cream I had purchased that morning. Okay, I guess I was a little drunk.

Hey, but what a day, right? Next up is my Wednesday bargirl feeding at Hideaway and whatever comes after. Join me tomorrow for a full report of the night’s events and also the photo essay from this morning’s hiking adventure in Castillejos.

Joy came over for a visit yesterday afternoon. It was pleasantly fulfilling. Afterward, I took her to Mango’s and treated her to the grilled pork chops. I guess she must have liked them; that’s what she wants for dinner on Sunday.

A commenter asked for the details of the relationship I have with Joy. However it might be characterized, a relationship is probably an overstatement. Joy is in her early twenties and has two young children. That’s pretty much a deal breaker for me. Don’t get me wrong; she is a very sweet and kind young woman, but as a mother, she is not free to provide me with the things I desire in a relationship. For example, I want to cuddle all night and wake up next to the woman I love. But since I’m not going to raise someone else’s kids at this late stage in my life, there is no potential future with Joy.

So, nowadays, I visit Joy at Hideaway on Wednesdays and Sundays and feed her and the girls some dinner. Joy comes to see me at my place once a month or so. I reward her for her TLC, and she goes home happy. It is what it is, nothing more, nothing less. I guess that’s an example of me being a “sweet father.”

Another commenter has noticed the propensity of moles on the faces of many Filipinas. I also observed that phenomenon when I first arrived, but I guess I’ve grown accustomed to it now. Not sure if it is a genetic thing or just that Western women are more inclined to get the moles surgically removed. I suppose they can be a little distracting, but they are not that big a deal to me.

I guess it is good to remember it is not what’s on the face that matters, but what’s in the heart.

After Joy left, I headed out to Cheap Charlies. I figured I’d have a couple of drinks and then visit Hot Zone when it opened at 6:00 to use my discount coupon. I could keep an eye on things from my vantage point at CC, but for some reason, Hot Zone failed to open at six as scheduled. So, I just said, “fuck it,” and ordered another round for my crew and me.

I hadn’t used up all of my 500 peso voucher at Alaska Club, so I stopped there on my way home. It turned out to be a little expensive. I was the only customer, and my earlier drinks had triggered my generosity mode. I gave each of the six dancers a 50 peso tip expecting nothing in return. But those sweet girls pulled down their tops to show me their tits. Made me feel like a sweet father again.

I, of course, took care of my waitress and my second favorite Joy, with lady drinks. I’ll be seeing Joy #2 tonight at Queen Victoria for the SOB–she’s one of the Alaska dancers.

I started my yesterday with a beach walk on Baloy.

I’m not sure what’s up with my Lucky dog. He’s taken to joining me in bed at night, and I’m okay with that. But he has his own way of doing it.

Fine, be that way.

I’ll leave you with this little gem:

Back tomorrow with a photo report from today’s hike and any worthy news from my SOB adventure.

It has been said that money can’t buy happiness. That may be true, but it does buy things that make me happy. Yesterday’s big purchases were a cart full of groceries and a new desk chair But it is not just material things for my own benefit that give me some feel-good moments. The mountain mama widow I provide grocery money for each week always expresses genuine gratitude, and it feels good to be making a difference in her life in some small way. Yesterday she pleaded for a little extra because her kids all had some fever/congestion thing going on. Of course, I obliged. Her thank you message included this photo:

Speaking of sick children, my friend Bhel is currently in Manila, getting her son’s heart condition reviewed at a couple of the major medical centers there. There are still some more tests to be done, but it appears he may be eligible for a program that will provide the required surgery at a significant discount. Here’s hoping things turn out that way.

I was reminded today of the project I initiated to train the woman I thought would be my caregiver here when I retired. Unbeknownst to me, she had different ideas, and next month will mark the fifth anniversary of the broken heart she gave in return for my generosity. Before I knew what was in store for me, I featured her in a post called “Pay it Forward.” In a weird kind of way, maybe that is what she wound up doing. I have no idea whether she’s still with the Englishman she dumped me for or not, but someone besides me will ultimately benefit from the training I paid for, and I guess that’s a form of charity too.

I came across another post called “Charitably speaking,” where I compare my friend in Cambodia paying to have a house built for his girl’s family and my rejection of beggars trying to nickel and dime me while interrupting me in my important work of beer drinking. Yeah, I can be a dick sometimes, too.

Of course, the lion’s share of my “good deeds” is directed towards the hardworking bargirls I encounter on a regular basis. I’m not talking about the prostitutes here; these are the girls working hard on eight to twelve-hour shifts to pay the rent. I’ve been asking around town, and it seems almost all the bars have a standard salary of 200 pesos per day. That’s the equivalent of four dollars, folks. So those lady drink commissions genuinely are a big deal in giving them the ability to make ends meet. I am sincerely glad that I’m able to help out my handful of regulars.

I had a 500 pesos voucher coupon for Alaska Club, and I put it to use last night. And now I have some more Joy in my life:

Anyway, I’ve been thinking about a name to use in conjunction with my charity projects. What do y’all think of “Sweet Father”? It’s original but has a ring of familiarity, doesn’t it?

It’s feeding night at Hideaway Bar, and I’ll be providing a large Hawaiian pizza for dinner.

And I’m sure I won’t be drinking alone tonight, but it is for a good cause!

As always, thanks for your indulgence. I’ll be back tomorrow with pics from today’s hike and maybe some from whatever tonight brings.

Well, to be fair, the sun was shining until I tried to walk. Then the rain took over. I had to abort my morning hike at 5K and catch a trike home (heh, any excuse will do, right?). Shortly after arriving, it was sunny again. Stayed that way until I headed into town sans umbrella. I didn’t want to spend my evening dripping wet, so I popped into BarCelona, the first open establishment I came to (it was still a few minutes before 4:00) to wait out the storm.

The rain eventually let up, and I continued my crosstown journey to Hideaway bar. I made a stop at Chooks to Go and picked up two roasted chickens.

Joy loved the cornbread muffins the best. She’s usually quite generous with her co-workers, but she kept three of the six muffins I brought for herself.

The chicken and brownies were popular with the other girls too. That’s what it’s all about.

After feeding the crew, I went across the highway to John’s place to feed myself. Sat up in the third-floor bar area.

After my dinner, I popped into Cheap Charlies and enjoyed Roseanne and Alma’s company while imbibing some alcoholic beverages.

Finished my evening out with a beer at Snackbar. One of the waitresses was celebrating her birthday, so she got a drink too. The person I had come to see wasn’t there even though she had invited me. That put me in a foul mood, but lesson learned.

But the sun came out this morning, and I had a pleasant dog walk.

Made myself a burrito for breakfast.

And now, it is time to prepare for another Hash Monday. Leech My Nuggets is the Hare, so I expect a challenging trail. We finish up on Baloy Beach at the Viking Resort. I’ll post the ups and downs and slips and slides tomorrow.

Thanks for stopping by!

The gathering to honor the memory of Don Bullock at IDM yesterday was thought-provoking. Lots of people we both knew were there, so it was good to see some old familiar faces. I offered the usual condolences to his widow and enjoyed seeing his children looking healthy and happy as they might be under the circumstances. It’s cliche to say “life goes on,” I suppose, but for those in attendance, that seemed to be the modus operandi. What else are you going to do? Don ain’t coming back, and we are still here doing what he’d be doing if he was alive. Cheers to a life well lived and to the friends you left behind!

I guess maybe it is my selfish nature to use the occasion of someone’s death to think of my own inevitable passing. Not so much about the when and how; ultimately, it doesn’t matter if I go from COPD, crossing the National highway, or being fucked to death by a sexy Filipina. Obviously, I’m in no hurry to reach that final destination, but the day comes for all of us. I guess what’s been on my mind is the feeling that my death won’t matter because I’m not an important part of anyone’s life. Sure, I have my kids, but I’ve not seen them for three years and rarely even hear from them these days. They are living their lives, and I’m not part of that. That’s fine; after all, this is the life I’ve chosen to spend on the other side of the world. I’m sure the people I know here would be sorry to see me go, but I wouldn’t be leaving any voids to fill either. And that’s okay, too.

I just wonder why that is. If no one is close to me, it must be my fault for not allowing them more than peripheral access to the person that I am. Or maybe they’re not trying hard enough to know me. Or both. It really doesn’t matter. I’ll continue on with my lonely journey, and perhaps one day, I’ll encounter a fellow traveler to join me. If not, then at least no one will have the power to hurt me again.

Enough of this mental masturbation. Life is what it is, we make the best of it until it is gone, and then we no longer have to worry about whether or not we are doing it right.

There are traditions that must be honored, like feeding the hungry. Tonight the Hideaway girls will be enjoying roast chicken from Chooks to Go. I baked up some cornbread muffins to add substance to the meal.

Yeah, I guess the Hideaway girls will miss me if and when I’m gone.

Oh, please help me,
oh, please help me,
I'm livin' by myself.
I need someone to comfort me,
I need someone to tell.

I'm sorry for
the things I've done,
I've shamed myself with lies,
But soon these things
are overcome
And can't be recognized.

I left my love
with ribbons on
And water in her eyes.
I took from her
the love I'd won
And turned it to the sky.

I'm sorry for
the things I've done,
I've shamed myself with lies,
My cruelty has punctured me
And now I'm running dry.

The Green Room was packed for last night’s SOB competition. It’s a nice bar but not the best venue for a dance contest. Without an actual stage, if you aren’t seated upfront, you are going to have an obstructed view. I got there early and secured what I thought was the best table in the house for watching the dancers. Then a combination of late arrivals and the GRO employees all gathered around in front of the tables. It got a little frustrating at times, but the girls at least were squatting lower so as not to obstruct the view so much.

There was a large group surrounding the table next to mine. Not sure if they were expats or tourists, but they were spending like two-week millionaires. They had a bunch of the bargirls in their company and bought multiple shots of tequila and several rounds of lady drinks for them. I know this because their “dates” used my table as a drink holder. No big deal. They also threw three or four buckets of balls (at 300 pesos each) to see the girls scrambling on the floor to gather them up (I understand they get 10 pesos for each ball they collect). The guys were drinking Red Horse, a popular local brew not served in the Green Room. At first, I thought, why is the bar allowing outside beverages? Then I realized that with the kind of dough these dudes were dropping, it was prudent to ignore. It also dawned on me that your drinks are free during the SOB, so a customer bringing in their own beer actually saves the bar money.

Anyway, it looked like they were all having fun, so who am I to complain? I kept my old man grumpiness to myself.

(the photos above are courtesy of the event host)

I also attended the Aftermath event next door at Wet Spot. That kept me up well past my bedtime–I didn’t get home until almost 10:30! But now I’ve got a pocket full of discount coupons to use up this week. We’ll see how much those discounts wind up costing me.

Saw this today, and it gave me a chuckle:

My other “big event” yesterday was the Friday group hike. Five of us turned up, and it fell on me to lead the way. I took some mostly familiar trails, including a goodly portion of My Bitch, two climbs, and 6K or so. My fellow hikers seemed to enjoy it, so there’s that.

Here are a few photos from the trek:

So, that was my yesterday. Today there will be a memorial for the recently deceased Don Bullock at IDM that I plan to attend. Not sure what else the night holds in store for me, but I’m sure I’ll have something to say about that tomorrow. Assuming I survive.

Glad you asked! I’m from Vaxxy nation. Fully, of course.

Yes, I got my second dose of Sinovac yesterday afternoon. That’s as vaccinated as I’m going to get. The booster isn’t due for three months, and I will need to travel before then. If the Philippines government is to be believed, I will just need a PCR test before flying back if I don’t have the booster. That’s all I can do, so I’ll get on with the business of planning my trip. My first choice is Cambodia, but I’ll need to check flight availability. I prefer flying out of Clark in Angeles rather than making the journey to Manila. So, we’ll see. Lots of options in this big ol’ world.

I’m not feeling any real side effects from this second dose, just a little sore in the shoulder where they jabbed me. The person who gave me the shot said something that sounded like “…drink alcohol for three days,” so I got started on that last night.

I didn’t drink on an empty stomach, though. I invited Joy and her co-worker friend Jen to join me for a pork belly dinner at a relatively new place in town.

The girls walked home after dinner, and I went with them as far as It Doesn’t Matter. There was no one there I really knew, so I only stayed for a couple of drinks. I had gotten a message from Lydell, who used to work at the now-closed Kamto, letting me know she was now employed at Adam’s bar. I decided to pay her a visit.

When I arrived, Lydell was busy doing some paperwork. I guess that’s her job, keeping track of who’s earned what lady drink commissions. I did get a chance to buy her a drink, and we chatted some. She just started the new job yesterday, but she says she is enjoying it so far. I’m glad she landed on her feet.

I probably need to do an update of my review of Adam’s. Last night I took note of the multitude of attractive ladies on staff, but talking to the ones right next to me was almost impossible because of the loud blaring music they were playing. Good songs, just way too much volume. I likely would have stayed longer last night but for that, and with so many other options available, it will be a negative factor should I consider a return visit.

I finished up at Queen Victoria since it was just across the street. The bartender told me a Ray’s gay band was playing later, but I wasn’t in the mood for live music either. In fact, I wasn’t in the mood for anything except going home to bed. I blame the vaxx. Maybe the vaxx caused that bad pun for reggae too.

Oh, well. Today’s another day, and I’ll be SOBing at The Green Room later this afternoon.

Not much to say about another boring Tuesday, but I’ll say it anyway.

The first stop of the day was a visit to the immigration office. My replacement ACR (alien registration) card was supposed to be ready for pick up in three weeks. I waited for four just to be sure. Alas, it still wasn’t available. I’ll try again next week.

Grocery shopping was uneventful, especially if you can avoid injuring your neck from shaking your head at all the inflated prices. I also just shrugged off the many out-of-stock items I had hoped to purchase.

I had a nice massage in the afternoon. My masseuse was still uncomfortable about my breathing attack during her last visit and didn’t want to risk another, so she gave me an ending that didn’t require much effort on my part. I was satisfied with the outcum. *ahem*

My friend with the retired military mailbox messaged that my replacement credit card had arrived, so I went to meet him at It Doesn’t Matter to pick it up. I treated him to a couple of beers for his trouble, and I enjoyed some soda and gin drinks.

When it came time for a change in scenery, I moseyed down to Sit-n-Bull to order up some dinner. I had a 10% discount coupon from the SOB I needed to use, and so I went with the club sandwich with a side of slaw and had them deliver it around the corner at The Green Room. I had a couple more drinks there while I enjoyed my meal.

Next up was Alaska Club, where I had another “buy one, get one” drink coupon to utilize before its expiration. Owner Jerry had just returned from a trip home to the states; it was good to say hello. And thanks again for the free drink! Anyway, those coupons are only good for one night, so you need to drink a lot to maximize their value. So, obviously, I’m not responsible for over-imbibing. But since I felt compelled to buy lady drinks for my waitress and one of the dancers, the longer I stayed, the more it cost me. Those coupons really aren’t such a good bargain after all.

I left Alaska but wasn’t quite ready to call it a night. I intended to pay a visit to Queen Victoria, but as I passed Johansson’s, I saw my Hash friend Reggie (What’s Up Doc) sitting alone at the bar. I thought I’d stop in to say hello, but as I walked through the door, her new boyfriend appeared and embraced her. I sat down on the other side of the bar and ordered a beer (I thought it would have been awkward to turn around and walk back out). After finishing my brew, I continued my journey to Queen Victoria.

I ordered up another beer, and before long, my friend (on FB anyway) TinTin joined me at the bar. Naturally, I bought her a lady drink. I was a little too far gone at this point to remember to take a picture of her, but here’s the one I took last time we met:

Anyway, I was one and done at QV, walked outside to be greeted by a trike driver, “going home, John?” I have no idea how these guys found out my name, but it does make it easy when they know the way to my house. Once I arrived home, I ate too much ice cream (chocolate almond this week) and then went to bed.

Facebook memories brought back some of the good ol’ days this morning:

Some days just aren’t worth writing about, are they? I’m not responsible for your wasted time if you read this one. It’s bound to be better tomorrow. See you then!

And so the circle of life continues.

My mission was to feed the hungry. My destination was Hideaway bar. The dinner was tacos.

After I completed providing nourishment to the bargirls and enjoying a few drinks, including a free one from the manager, Griff, it was time for me to move on to my next destination–John’s place. Putting duty before self, I had not as yet had my own evening meal.

I had a dual purpose in visiting John’s place; it will be my next review in the Bars of Barretto series.

After my meal, I hoofed it to the other side of town and finished my night at Snackbar.

When my time was up and my night was done, the girls fetched a trike to take me home. A banana-mango-pineapple smoothie for dessert then I was off to bed.

It’s Hash Monday, and I’m a Hare, so that meant an early start this morning laying paper, powder, and chalk to mark today’s trail. I guess I should say trails. We are doing a short and long version–one 6K, the other around 8K. The trails split in the middle of the hike and rejoin towards the end. Both are mostly flat. We were fortunate to have some sunny weather this morning; hopefully, that holds up through the afternoon.

I had my hands full with trail marking paraphernalia, but here are a couple of shots I took along the way:

And now it’s raining again. I hope our trail markings hold up.

I’ll be meeting the 2:00 group at the VFW to provide trail guidance and answer any questions. Some Hares will re-walk the trail with the Hashers, but I’m going to take a pass on that this time. Honestly, it just isn’t that challenging to the point of being boring. Once is enough for me!

Trying to think of a song to bookend with the title of this post, but couldn’t really find a good match. Considered the Door’s Break On Through, but that was more of a stoner song. Gonna settle for some Juice Newton instead. Hope your Spanish is up to speed!

Tropical paradise
But the beauty escapes me
Everything should be so right
For falling in love

Two hearts belong
But one heart remains so unhappy
Nothing else matters to me
No nothing at all

Puedes traerme tu amor
Adiós mi corazón how I love you
Puedes traerme tu amor
Adiós mi corazón
I hope the words are right
'Cause they're the only words
I know tonight

Oh! The nights are never ending
I don't know why
No comprende
Days are longer than
You'll ever know
Adiós mi corazón