Algo Personal (feat. Joan Manuel Serrat)

Probably in their town they will be remembered
As good-hearted puppies
Who stole flowers to give to their mom
And fed the pigeons

Probably all that must be true
Although it's murkier how and in what way
Those individuals became what
They are, nor who they serve when they raise the flags
Straw men who use cologne and honor
To hide dark intentions
They lead a double life, they are hitmen of evil
Between those guys and me there's something personal

They have more tricks than real magicians
Without using a magic wand they make people disappear
Abracadabra you disappeared if your banner says something that upsets them
They hate humanists
Philosophy students are all terrorists!
Generally, they don't get along with thinkers
They're like bulls, they don't see all the colors
They came to save us in these tragic times
Together with their promises full of magical realism
And with their language of endless lies
They convince even the flowers that they are not beautiful
They confuse you even if you have mental clarity
They are the kind of people who sell ice
To an Eskimo
They cheat with votes in the electoral school
With these guys I also have something personal

Surrounded by protocol, entourage, and security
They travel incognito in armored cars
To spread slander, to lie naturally
To hang their portrait in schools
They spend more than they have on collecting
Spies, blacklists, and arsenals
It's embarrassing to see them boast
To see who has the biggest one

They arm themselves to the teeth
In the name of peace
And play with things that have no replacement, it's the other's fault if something goes wrong
Between those guys and me there's something personal

They are devoted to military schools
Because they think that to defend themselves
They have to kill another
Difficult to judge before the courts
They send others so as not to leave their fingerprints
They flee in military helicopters
And pretend to be sick to escape justice
They give away soccer, beer, and a little dancing too
So you forget that they are not behaving well
They stole the dreams of half of humanity
They don't believe in Easter, nor do they believe in Christmas
These guys weren't given love when they were kids
That's why when they are shot at, they protect themselves with children
In front of the cameras to not look bad
They have breakfast with a slap on Sunday in the cathedral
They are like fruit juices with artificial flavor
Between these guys and me there's something personal

And like someone who has nothing to lose
They sound the alarm and break promises
And in the name of someone they don't have the pleasure of knowing
They put a gun to our heads
They grab each other by the hair, but to not make a mess
They go to shit at other people's houses
And they experiment with new methods of massacre
Sophisticated and convincing at the same time
They don't even know their father when they lose control
Nor do they remember that there are children in the world
They deny us all bread and salt
Between those guys and me there's something personal

They deny us all bread and salt
Between those guys and me
(I don't get along with them, I don't agree with these guys)
Between those guys and me
(Because the crazy ones who forget don't get along with memories)
Between those guys and me there's something personal