Confesión de Un Asesino

Hey, Magda, remember how we met?
It seemed like destiny that made me end you
Our friend Dago made us friends
Without imagining his girl would later go with me
And I couldn't help but desire to explore your skin
Maybe because you were like me, addicted to feeling pleasure
You didn't care about having a boyfriend, you wanted to possess me
I noticed that in your gaze from the first time
That's why I easily got your Facebook account
You just said to add you from a fake account
You also gave me an image to use as a profile picture
It was three green balloons tied together
I didn't know why, but I didn't ask
Later I knew very well why you wanted to do it
Your paraphilia was strange, as it excited you to fuck
Men dressed as clowns, who would have thought?

This is the confession of a killer
Who made someone else pay for his delusions
Yes, it was me, me, me, me
Me, me, me, me

You were always fearless, it's a fact, I know
At work, they named you journalist of the month
For the interview you did with a crazy guy, Ezequiel
Self-proclaimed prophet and executioner at the same time
At 15, he killed a father, but that wasn't the reason
For your interview but the fact that he later became
From atheism to believer and a prophet of God
You asked how the hell that happened
He said it was the painting that convinced him
Referring to an ambiguous painting by an ancient painter
He said his painting changed faces and then it spoke to him
Saying that he had created it, that it was the face of God
So that... That's what converted him
He didn't imagine he would be the mockery of a whole nation
But that's why... That lunatic stopped
Because they took him to the psychiatric hospital, and rightly so

This is the confession of a killer
Who made someone else pay for his delusions
Yes, it was me, me, me, me
Me, me, me, me

If you could speak, you would surely ask me
Why I killed you, the truth is I don't know
I just knew I had to do it and plan it well
To the point where someone else would take the blame and I would be free
Ha
It would be Dago who would be blamed for killing you
Who better than an ex who was still in love?
And for fun, I sent a love letter to your lover
Pablo so he would notice you had already cheated on him
Hours later, I visited Dago, under the pretext of an afternoon coffee
And when I prepared them, I added sleeping pills, shortly after he slept like a baby
Then I went to pick you up
I told you there was a surprise waiting for you
And
Blindfold yourself on the way here, I put a clown nose on you when we arrived
I laid you on the grass and you thought about fucking, you didn't suspect I was going to decapitate you
And wait for... Dago to wake up, well
What a surprise he'll have seeing you dead at his feet

This is the confession of a killer
Who made someone else pay for his delusions
Yes, it was me, me, me, me
Me, me, me, me

Magda, ignore everything I've told you, because it's not true, I swear it's not true
I'm not a killer and you're not dead, you know why?
Because we don't even exist, the only real lunatic in this series
Is the creator of it, who has invented us just to feel like a God
We were mere puppets he condemned for his amusement, as we have been created
Just to satisfy his delusions of grandeur
He is omnipotent, omnipresent, and omniscient because
He has designed our present, past, and future
Proof of this is that the damn sicko has already made me die
In the future by having my own daughter shoot me
And you know what's the worst part? I can't do anything to prevent it
Because we don't have free will, not even these words are mine
Have you noticed that we all have the same voice? It's because
We are just an extension of himself
And there is no greater misfortune than being aware of our own nonexistence

This is the confession of a killer
Who made someone else pay for his delusions
Yes, it was me, me, me, me
Me, me, me, me

The apotheosis of man is possible through art
Because the moment an artist creates an alternate universe in his mind
He acquires the qualities of a God before his creations
And unless these become a real dissociation in the artist's mind
They have no power to change his destiny