Músico loco
Fondo Flamenco
Crazy Musician
He lives in his world that is not ours
full of chords...
Surrounded by notes covered in beats
lamentations that break the air.
His voice sounds like the melody of his songs
to sing to live, live to sing, what does it matter...
If his only concern is to produce a mere song
so his guitar doesn't miss him...
His mind flies every day in a world he created himself
and floating on his cloud of joy, he is happy there, he is happy...
They call him crazy because he walks alone
humming and writing some notes
and in that full notebook of scribbles he always carries around...
Lyrics of love, disappointment, and sorrows
lyrics that tell stories, lyrics...
what does it matter what he writes if it comes from the soul
of this crazy musician...crazy musician...
He dreams of music, wakes up with it
he lives in love with that sweet maiden
with womanly curves and six strings...
No one understands him, no one comprehends what he feels
every time he lets himself go...
His mind flies every day in a world he created himself
and floating on his cloud of joy, he is happy there, he is happy...
They call him crazy because he walks alone
humming and writing some notes
and in that full notebook of scribbles he always carries around...
Lyrics of love, disappointment, and sorrows
lyrics that tell stories, lyrics...
what does it matter what he writes if it comes from the soul
of this crazy musician...
And in every song, his heart beats in rhythm...
They call me crazy because I walk alone
humming and writing some tones
and in this notebook full of scribbles
that I always carry around...
Lyrics of love, disappointment, and sorrows
lyrics that tell stories...lyrics...
what does it matter what I write if I am just
another crazy musician...
crazy musician...
