Más de Cien Mentiras

We have memory, we have friends
We have trains, laughter, bars
We have doubt and faith, I add and continue
We have motels, bars, altars

We have urgencies, loves that kill
We have silence, tobacco, reasons
We have Venice, we have Manhattan
We have ashes of revolutions

We have shoes, pride, present
We have customs, modesty, gasps
We have the mouth, the tongue, the teeth
Saliva, cynicism, madness, desire

We have sex and rock and drugs
Feet in the neighborhood, and the scream in the sky
We have Quintero, León and Quiroga
And a pending business with Pedro Botero

More than a hundred words, more than a hundred reasons
Not to cut our veins with a slash
More than a hundred pupils where we see each other alive
More than a hundred lies worth it

We have an ace hidden up our sleeve
We have nostalgia, pity, insolence
Nuns from Fellini, priests from Berlanga
Poison, hangover, perfume, violence

We have a roof with books and kisses
We have the morbid, jealousy, blood
We have the fog inside our bones
We have the luxury of not being hungry

We have Achilles' heels without bottoms
Sunday clothes, no flag
Summer clouds, wars of Macondo
Mushrooms in November, fever in spring

Roundabouts, magazines, hallways, guns
Who cares, I'm sorry, goodbye, I love you
Athletic fans, Coppola's gangsters
Verónica and Curro Romero's room

More than a hundred words, more than a hundred reasons
Not to cut our veins with a slash
More than a hundred pupils where we see each other alive
More than a hundred lies worth it

We have the evil of melancholy
Thirst and rage, noise and nuts
We have water and twice a day
The holy miracle of bread and fish

We have lolitas, we have donjuans
Lennon and McCartney, Gardel and Le Pera
We have horoscopes, Bibles, Qurans
Ramblas on the moon, wax virgins

We have dreamed shipwrecks on beaches
Of islets with no name, law or routine
We have wounds, we have medals
Laurels of glory, crowns of thorns

More than a hundred words, more than a hundred reasons
Not to cut our veins with a slash
More than a hundred pupils where we see each other alive
More than a hundred lies worth it

We have whims, inflatable dolls
Fallen angels, sailboats
Poor exquisite, rich miserable
Tooth fairies, toothaches

We have projects that withered
Perfect crimes we didn't commit
Portraits of brides who forgot us
And a soul on sale that we never sold

We have poets, hanged, scoundrels
Quixotes and Sanchos, Babel and Sodom
Grandparents who always won battles
Paths that never led to Rome

More than a hundred words, more than a hundred reasons
Not to cut our veins with a slash
More than a hundred pupils where we see each other alive
More than a hundred lies worth it

More than a hundred words, more than a hundred reasons
Not to cut our veins with a slash
More than a hundred pupils where we see each other alive
More than a hundred lies worth it

More than a hundred words, more than a hundred reasons
Not to cut our veins with a slash
More than a hundred pupils where we see each other alive
More than a hundred lies worth it