La Calle Gris

You told me that the morning was bought with a kiss
And that war was for sale and that peace had its price

That politics is dressed in gold, silver and fine linen
And what comes out of the mouth pays tax in the ear
That every day the road is narrower

Ouch! The street is hard
That the street is hard
Oh! He who does not run, flies
He who does not run, flies

Oh! The moon is moving away
The moon is moving away
Oh! I wonder and meditate
What is the square root of myself?

You told me that lying used contact lenses
And that a Valentino shoe declared itself cheap
That a tariff fell in love with a taxpayer in a free zone
That anesthesia went to London to a tourism conference
Every day brings its own worries and I will explain to you

Ouch! The street is hard
That the street is hard
Oh! He who does not run, flies
He who does not run, flies

Oh! The moon is moving away
The moon is moving away
Oh! I wonder and meditate
What is the square root of myself?

And that there is no favoritism with coffee
The first one to strain is the one who will drink
That Tchaikovsky was Russian and Debussy was French
When the river sounds it is because it brings water, I know it
That clubs are trenches of society
Where there is room for seven, there is room for twenty-three
The night looks good for Star Trek
Hey, man! Don't mess with that

Ouch! The street is hard
That the street is hard
Oh! He who does not run, flies
He who does not run, flies

Oh! The moon is moving away
The moon is moving away
Oh! I wonder and meditate
What is the square root of myself?

Love somebody
Need somebody
Love somebody
Need somebody