Desarmate
Babasónicos
Disarm Yourself
explosion, in my neighborhood
it's the door, and I don't calm down
a spasm, a buzzing
broken glass in my nerves and in my ear
they arrived, you arrived
a state that tells me the street is a disaster
fear, blood, fire, dry
some son of a bitch must be happy
no one with a gun knows what's really going on
no one who has it thinks well and that does happen
no one knows what they're doing, but they know they're undoing
we're all in the night in the cabin of a van, a Chevrolet van, a Chevy van
we're six stoned guys who want to transport you
to a heavy disco, a disco ten
maybe something I sense anticipates the sweat
and my brother G, who is somewhat cold, tells me
cool man, I hear shots
no one with a gun knows what's really going on
no one who has it thinks well and that does happen
no one with a gun knows what's really going on
no one who has it thinks well and that does happen
here and there and everywhere I say what I think, I never shut up
no to violence, that's my respect
I was born in Lanus, Lanus city and ghetto
I'm calm, fate is my sold
I'm calm, I prefer the senseless
but if there's something left for me to say
that while you go, I've already returned
no one with a gun knows what's really going on
no one who has it thinks well and that does happen
