Pobre Madrid

Where's that Madrid,
that I knew as a kid?
Who turned you into the target
of terror?
With disdain, because if
everyone talks shit about you,
the ones who thrive here
are the ones who never leave
and those who want to come.
With bad faith, they often say
it's a government of, not in Madrid,
but more than an honor, it's a pain
to bear being the capital.
The eye of the storm,
poor Madrid, the breakwater of the country.
Sea of tar, state stronghold,
poor Madrid, a big national excuse.
To keep the suffering folks happy,
they invent parties
and tacky events
and goodbye to problems.
Refuse to be an exception,
demand your independence, Madrid,
because in the midst of confusion,
it might just slip through and you’ll get it.
The eye of the storm,
poor Madrid, the breakwater of the country.
Sea of tar, state stronghold,
poor Madrid, a big national excuse.
I’ll stay, I won’t ask
to be buried far from here,
I just wish that Madrid
that got lost would come back, come back that Madrid would come back.