Zumba / Yoli / Viva Satana / La Roncha

Everyone leaves because the wind calls them
And they never return to their lair
They turn around, facing the past
Watching time go by

While everyone thinks I'm so wrong
I see the future crackle at my feet
A winged insect hums in my ear
Commanding my tongue to vibrate

I drift and sink
I travel so deep
Until I see you pass by again
I fall flying down
Down and I can't reach you
You're always one step ahead

Carries in his pocket a gun
And a bald eyelash
Fury drips from his clenched fist
Loading bullets with ill will

They will call her

Holy Yoli of the narcocorrido
In your breasts give us the nectar
Holy Yoli of the narcocorrido
In your breasts give us the nectar

Almost nothing about her is natural
All artifice deceives
Almost nothing about her is natural
All artifice deceives

Almost nothing about her is natural
All artifice deceives
Almost nothing about her is natural
All artifice deceives

Tura satana is looking for her hat already
There in Las Vegas
Tura, riding a can of fire
Leaves a trail of sparks on the road

She hitchhikes at a ranch
Burns everyone, kills everyone
A brawl
She doesn't understand pleas, much less tears

Lights flicker, illuminate marquees
Of Latin cats, a burlesque glitter
Kinky, nasty
Steals the stripper show and starts a thousand cheers
Hail satan! Hail satan!

If she's going somewhere or coming back from it
Just imagine one thing
All destinations to travel
All lead to Cordoba
She doesn't distinguish between good and evil
They call her the ponderous one

Party is the poison, it's in her skin
They fly like flies to honey
In this vision there is no tomorrow
How the future dissolves

Fever
The fever is coming
The fever is coming

Scorching heat