El Destierro

Tired, I left it all behind
Gave up rap, concerts, recording, rehearsals
And well, I ran from this place

Here the sun can’t stand the heat or the haze
Its splendid shine is just a timid blush
Without sound, the condor’s pain is profound
In a desolate valley like a drunkard’s soul

But there I feel at home, it’s just my place
Bitterness sleeps outside, this is my sweet home
Here there are no cameras, no souls torn behind every mask
I’ll tear my face apart, it’s just a shell

Now I open my arms and rap looking at the sky
The birds get sad, they stop their flight
The enemy spikes embrace each other
And the hills above cry each a river

Meanwhile, a weak wind steps
That makes the sad old leaves jump from their cliffs
And my texts and flaws, what made me wretched
Were devoured in moments, by larvae and by insects

Then, the horizon told the sun
"This afternoon hide behind the lines of this song"
Each verse turned to dusk, the text became sky
Darkened in slow twilight, like someone going blind

The moon bathes in some mental lagoon
It’s going to forget it inspires sentimental poetry
The wise are the lyrics, the wind is the beat
This valley the stage, my silence the mic

Well, here I am calm. Far from the city
Time isn’t in a hurry, it’s a prisoner of freedom
Here life is forgotten without a beat, without weed, without more
In this valley even death rests in peace

If there’s a bird, there was a cage, if it came here wounded
It’s because if impulse gave wings to its soul
If there’s a wolf in harmony with nostalgia
It’s because it raps to the moon especially on magical nights

The branches sway with despair, there’s no disdain
Tears fall from the tree and in its crown they drink
Bloodied birds sing "everything will be fine"
They drown in ugly chirps, drunk on nectar with bile

It’s not a valley, it’s depression, but the pressure is no longer a prison
The stream under the willow dragged and drowned the sad sparrow
The desperation of the scream that drowned in blood
Split my chest in two, and from there it escaped

The tasteless laughter of the breeze warns perhaps
That inside I’m on fire, and it will take my ashes
Despite everything, I know well that I belong here
Inside I hardened until my soul turned to dust

And what I write is no longer for you
The torso of a mannequin beats with more passion
Between silence and oblivion, that’s where I hid
Because from dust I was born, and to dust I became