Mono de Ciudad

This life that goes up and down like a seesaw
Credit cards and vicious circles under the Sun
So much monkey business and so many trinkets
That the monkey forgot it was a monkey
And traded it for fiction

He drew a little picture in a dark cave
And the monkey, proudly pointing, said: This is me
Today desperate, well civilized
There's no more little drawing
But the monkey never forgot

And it's not so bad
Being a city monkey
I may not have a tree, but I have a jungle
And I'm always on alert

My survival instinct

What a well-groomed monkey, a decorated monkey
A couple of pretty words, ready, you're a hottie
Clutching onto the story like a hungry monkey
The monkey forgot it was a monkey
And believed it was God

But something is missing, a hole deep inside
It calls to him when the monkey is alone and asks: Who are you?
And today, desperate, he searches everywhere
For the monkey that once was another monkey
And traded it for fiction

And it's not so bad
Being a city monkey
I may not have a tree, but I have a jungle
And I'm always on alert

My survival instinct

Consuming that I add, that I subtract
That tomorrow is watching me

And I don't recognize myself
And I spin like a top
Everything I touch, I break

And I rebuild with the tips of my toes
And I create a self that is not a self, but it's entertaining
And I look at you, but I'm so asleep

And yet, it's not so bad
Being a city monkey
I may not have a tree, but I have a jungle
And I'm always on alert

My survival instinct