Más de Cien Mentiras

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

We have emergencies, 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, panting
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 cry in the sky
We have Quintero, Leon and Quiroga
And a pending business with Pedro Botero

More than a hundred words, more than a hundred reasons
To avoid cutting your veins
More than a hundred pupils where we can see ourselves alive
More than a hundred lies that are worth telling

We have an ace up our sleeve
We have nostalgia, pity, insolence
Fellini's nuns, Berlanga's priests
Poison, hangover, perfume, violence

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

We have unfunded Achilles heels
Sunday clothes, no flags
Summer clouds, Macondo wars
Mushrooms in November, fever in spring

Roundabouts, magazines, halls, guns
What does it matter, I'm sorry, goodbye, I love you
Atletico fans, Coppola's gangsters
Veronica and Curro Romero's room

More than a hundred words, more than a hundred reasons
To avoid cutting your veins
More than a hundred pupils where we can see ourselves alive
More than a hundred lies that are worth telling

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

We have lolitas, we have donjuans
Lennon and McCartney, Gardel and Le Pera
We have horoscopes, Bibles, Korans
Ramblas in the moonlight, wax virgins

We have dream shipwrecks on beaches
Of islets without 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
To avoid cutting your veins
More than a hundred pupils where we can see ourselves alive
More than a hundred lies that are worth telling

We have whims, inflatable dolls
Fallen angels, sailing boats
Poor exquisite, rich miserable
Tooth fairy, toothaches

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

We have poets, hangers-on, scoundrels
Quixotes and Sanchos, Babel and Sodom
Grandparents who always won battles
Roads that never led to Rome

More than a hundred words, more than a hundred reasons
To avoid cutting your veins
More than a hundred pupils where we can see ourselves alive
More than a hundred lies that are worth telling

More than a hundred words, more than a hundred reasons
To avoid cutting your veins
More than a hundred pupils where we can see ourselves alive
More than a hundred lies that are worth telling

More than a hundred words, more than a hundred reasons
To avoid cutting your veins
More than a hundred pupils where we can see ourselves alive
More than a hundred lies that are worth telling