La Roncha
Babasónicos
The Rash
Scorching heat.
Packed earth.
The afternoon burns in his hands
Dry and passionate.
Clamor of a song.
Out-of-tune nostalgia.
The sky, an ambassador.
The guitar strings growl in the distance.
Brunette, goddess siren.
Lightly swaying.
Juicy red watermelons.
Everything here is cheap, life costs nothing.
Party is the poison, it's in her skin...
They fly like flies in honey...
In this vision, there is no tomorrow.
How the future dissolves.
Fever, fever, fever, fever,
fever, fever, fever, fever...
