Caballo de Cartón

Every morning you yawn, threaten the alarm clock
And you get up growling while the Sun is still asleep
Brief truce at the bar, coffee with two sugars and croissant
The subway smells rotten, cannon fodder and loneliness

Tirso de Molina, Sol, Gran Vía, Tribunal
Where is your office to go look for you?
When the city paints its lips with neon
You'll ride on my cardboard horse
They may steal your days, but not your nights

How good you look, sweetheart, when you pass by the bricklayer shouts
The pervert in the train car touches himself while thinking of you
Your boss's voice bellows: These are not the hours to arrive
While your hands file, your mind starts to wander

Tirso de Molina, Sol, Gran Vía, Tribunal
Where is your office to go look for you?
When the city paints its lips with neon
You'll ride on my cardboard horse
They may steal your days, but not your nights

Ambiguous hours that mix the drunk and the early riser
Dance of suits without bodies to the obscene rhythm of the train car
Centuries ago they thought: Things will be better tomorrow
It's too early for desire and too late for love

Tirso de Molina, Sol, Gran Vía, Tribunal
Where is your office to go look for you?
When the city paints its lips with neon
You'll ride on my cardboard horse
They may steal your days, but not your nights