The curtain falls! On paper and dust!

Trading your soul for a digital trust.

It’s a crowded room, but remarkably small,

Shadows preening on a gallery wall.

Curate the light! And polish the lie!

Another new muse for a wandering eye.

How tedious, baby—this constant debut,

Searching for mirrors to find a new YOU!

It’s a script for a ghost! (Written in sand!)

Held by a cold and a (trembling hand!)

I’ve seen the end, I’ve read the last page,

I’m far too old for this primitive stage!

So keep the applause and the hollow refrains!

The destiny talk and the staged little pains!

Master of echoes, king of the blur,

A gift for the masses—whoever they were!

I’m folding the program, I’m leaving the seat,

The air in the lobby is remarkably sweet.

No malice, no fire—just a quiet "adieu",

I’m bored of the fiction, and mostly of YOU!

¡Azúcar!

Gather your chorus, let 'em all sing!

A circle of sirens with nothing to bring.

Chant for the martyr! And weep for the sign!

While you’re busy blurring the truth and the line!

Predictable orbit, a cheap little spin,

The prize is a heart that’s remarkably thin.

Build up your towers of "likes" and of "gold",

But stories like yours? They just grow OLD!

It’s the tragedy of the amateur, isn’t it?

Thinking volume equals depth.

You need an audience to prove you're alive.

But me? I’m already on the dance floor.

Keep the applause! (Keep the refrains!)

The destiny talk! (And the staged little pains!)

I’m folding the program, I’m leaving the seat,

The air in the lobby is remarkably sweet.

No malice, no fire—just a quiet "adieu",

I’m bored of the fiction, and mostly of YOU!

The lights are out! The ink is dry!

No messy scene, no long goodbye!

Stay in your pond, little swan...

I’m gone! (¡Salsa!)

I’m gone! (¡Adiós!)