No te Mueras em mi casa

I don't know what the hell happened in San Telmo
although I really don't care much.
I see you wandering like a sick bug
scratching the edges of the table.
I've seen you in similar situations
I sense the seriousness of the moment
it shows by your jaw tremor
that you carried a couple of bags of cement.
Go to the corner to see if it's raining
go find an open bar while you still can
drink a whiskey to see if it helps
but please don't die in my house.
The neighborhood was and will be a dump
(I know)
there are few Samaritans like me
I'll listen to you better in the morning
you'll roll down the hill in Belgrano.
I've seen many cases of epilepsy
I know the legend of the fang
take the matter with cleanliness
but please don't die in my attic