El Tábano en la Oreja

That's how the script was written
You were supposed to be happy,
all a Simon Le Bon, bon bon.

Sparkling, a little mocking
with very little value.
Then you made yourself sprout, lethal

One does not reborn free like that,
with that strange mask
with so much voracious splendor.

You play with the syringe,
you draw with your blood
in the foam of your rich beer.

You are not the fruit of a mistake,
attracting attention
you do your job well.

Gray combat boots
and material boy glasses.

Your heart of clay goes,
pursuing a fiction
in which you are a devil always loyal.

Very easy to recruit,
lost in the black jack
with your lightly dried nose.

I saw similar acts,
you pretend to die
apparently you do it well.