Corte de Huracan
Andrés Calamaro
Hurricane Cut
Once again the hurricane knows its conscience,
like what happened to Juan
the super 'what will they say', the guilt distilled in oak barrels,
and the little words that now seem too noble,
and the accusing finger, it's all pointless,
how to prepare a confession if it was just animalization.
We are the result of the sum of blood and foam,
of the contained desire to fuck from our predecessors.
What honors do the animals expect
when taking charge of society's disgust?
of the most forbidden.
No one will applaud them,
hopefully they will be stained by oblivion.
They realize it, but they prefer to laugh than cry,
to puff up like a vampire, or shoot themselves, or not, or not...
It must be the cut, that new fake cut,
it must be the amphetamine,
a convenient conclusion
for a song.
