Sometimes . . .

Las líneas blancas sobre la pista y las ruedas de un auto a toda velo. Es tarde, de madrugada. La misma angustia, la vieja canción: When the day is long and the night, the night is yours alone / when you're sure you've had enough of this life / well hang on / don't let yourself go / 'cause everybody / cries and everybody hurts sometimes. / Sometimes everything is wrong. Now it's time to sing along / when your day is night alone /
(hold on, hold on)
If you feel like letting go /
(hold on)
When you think you've had too much of this life / well hang on.

'Cause everybody hurts. / Take comfort in your friends / Everybody hurts. Don't throw your hand. / Oh, no. / Don't throw your hand / If you feel like you're alone, no, no, no, you are not alone . . .