Esta Boca Es Mía

We better not have to choose
Between oblivion and memory
Between snow and sweat
You better learn to live
On the dividing line
That goes from boredom to passion

Don't let them stop you from galloping
Not even the barking of dogs
Not even the jawbone of Cain
Don't let insomnia come from counting
The seagulls of exile
The poppies of Paris

You are mistaken if you want to confuse me
This desperate song
He has no pride or morals
It's just about being able to sleep
No arguing with your pillow
Where is the good, where is the evil

The approaching war will break out
Tomorrow Monday afternoon
And you in the cinema without knowing
Who is the bad guy while the city
It is filled with burning trees
And the sky learns to grow old

And get out there
To defend the bread and your joy
And get out there
So you know that
This mouth is mine