Malasangre

I spent the whole night staked out on the couch
watching 'The Sopranos' massacre
Now the fingers of dawn sniff around my balcony
it got late so early...
I'm thinking it wouldn't hurt
to shave a bit, to care less about everything

Through the bruised veins of this agonizing city
flows stormy bad blood
drag queens, lunatics, occasional gunmen
Buenos Aires yawns its bile...
I'm trying to wake up cravings
to go where my sorrows can laugh a bit

But I'm a puppet when you go so far away
since the day you threw me out with your kisses
I have stale bread for breakfast when I can't find cyanide
I run to my sorrows that grow two heads
and come back panting
I have stale bread for breakfast when I can't find cyanide
I run to your absence
that tries on your shoes
your perfume and your stockings

The morning spills over and I would say this is the situation:
terrible, but worsening...
I'm not scared of your beauty, what I won't do is travel
to you with a fake passport
I'm trying to close pending matters
to slam the world's door
and be exposed to the elements of set tables,
broken plates of vanity,
of dwarfed glories,
the price we'll always pay

But I'm a wreck when I don't have you close
since the day you kicked me out with your lips
I have stale bread for breakfast when I can't find cyanide
I run to my sorrows that grow two heads
and come back panting
I have stale bread for breakfast when I can't find cyanide
I run to your absence
that tries on your dresses
your perfume and your stockings.