Y tu media naranja..?

.... alla lejos jugando con unas mandarinas pendejas.... Señoritas y Señores es de saber comun que no siempre encontraremos a nuestra medianaranja, y es muy posible que encontremos a una media torononja, a una media lima o bien a un medio limon real; a lo que me refiero es que muchas veces debemos de dejar de buscar a Mr o Mrs RIght y comenzar a buscar a Mr o Mrs do-it-right.

Hemos hecho de nuestros estandares para consegur pareja a veces algo medio inalanzable (advierto jamas he dicho imposible) y mucha gente se desespera o se pone demasiado como jerga con tal de conseguir a esa persona que piensan que es "la elegida" o "el caballero en brillante armadura"

El amor no se elige, se accidenta, siempre es una casualidad, jamas algo planeado, puedes planear el futuro y aun asi no sera siempre como t esperas, debes dejar al futuro en el pfuturo y vvir tu preente, al diablo con el mañana que ya pasara en su momento.

Tambien no podemos ser duros con nosotros mismo pensando en que "a lo mejor ya somos fruta pasada" y uqe ya nada mas los pepenadores o los pordioseros nos querrian, caray los mejores licores fuero descubrimiento de frutas pasadas asi que por que no ser un excelenete carvernette savignon?

Deja que todo fluya que tarde o temprano esa persona especial saldra dle lugar que realmente MENOS TE IMAGINAS.

Regret
New Order

Maybe I've forgotten the name and the address
Of everyone I've ever known
It's nothing I regret
Save it for another day
It's the school exam and the kids have run away

I would like a place I could call my own
Have a conversation on the telephone
Wake up every day that would be a start
I would not complain of my wounded heart

I was upset you see
Almost all the time
You used to be a stranger
Now you are mine

I wouldn't even trust you
I've not got much to give
We're dealing in the limits
And we don't know who with
You may think that I'm out of hand
That I'm naive, I'll understand
On this occasion, it's not true
Look at me, I'm not you

I would like a place I could call my own
Have a conversation on the telephone
Wake up every day that would be a start
I would not complain of my wounded heart

I was a short fuse
Burning all the time
You were a complete stranger
Now you are mine

I would like a place I could call my own
Have a conversation on the telephone
Wake up every day that would be a start
I would not complain about my wounded heart

Just wait till tomorrow
I guess that's what they all say
Just before they fall apart