Handbook

When I look back to see what I have become
I have to admit that I’m made of little pieces

Every wound and every single stain of pain
Every function of my brain’s built without instructions
There’s just distortion
And some confuse emotions

I’m a function of misdeed?
But I’m standing and alive

That’s why I’m sad
Why I’m mad
Why I’m always on the run
Without faith
Without pain
With that sickness on my chest
(Un manual sin instrucciones)

I am like a broken vase with golden bonds
Cause now I’m wise and stronger

Look what my job has made of me:
All this money... All this greed... That’s why I’m sad
Why I’m mad
Why I’m always on the run
Without faith
Without pain
With that sickness on my chest
(Un manual sin instrucciones)

Look what my job has made of me...
But I’m standing and alive!

That’s why I’m sad
Why I’m mad
Why I’m always on the run
Without faith
Without pain
With that sickness on my chest