Mariscal Tito

It's the crew
Of the big mess
Born to be first... and by far!
But it goes down the drain,
Not even at the end, lagging behind
His stories exhaust him
They are closing in on him
To live off the foam
That the thick mist of the pond gives
He cultivates bugs, niches, tinchos
And demonic and stinking tirzos
The kind of people hate
Who easily hate
But if it's someone else, if it's that other
It's you...
Who embarks on the feat,
Perfectly, without missing a detail
You're a producer on the street
Meticulous, obsessive, cautious, daring, and brave.
You risk your life,
A great actor who doesn't shy away from the role
(always straight to the slum)
and in a shack they don't even know you
and they sell it to you cut
powder soap, or cheap flour,
or rat poison
that doesn't kill you.
if you're immune!
Tito, leave that crap!!!
Now without friends, but they adore you,
You stole all the essence from death
To share it
You're a distributor of the God we love
Strolling through San Telmo
With the cross on your nose
Private in the war of the quenazo
What is the crack?
It's a crack in the ice
And the tremor?
It's the candombe of barter
All for nothing
I see you dancing the dance
Of the spy under the table
To the rhythm of police sirens
But it doesn't matter, this is cured
With a diet of alcohol, pills, weed,
Eight hours of sleep, and madness,
Which is the toughest crack,
And madness, which is the toughest crack
Tito, leave that crap!!!
Friend Tito: I put the mirror chest on you
So you love yourself
If you're battered
Here you have a friend, who condemns you to be well, to ease your pain a little
From that damn torture of distortions,
Even if it excites, illusions, reacts well, with a clear head.
Because it twists it, makes it perverse,
So that hysteria comes out,
Fears, miseries, atlas of lies,
Feats.
And crush the guilt
Of having killed Christ
For being decent, like the people
Who kill out of envy
Which is the laziness of the old
Who, like me, judges
And gives advice.
Tito, bring that crap!