De Buena Mañana

I wake up bright and early,
The shadow of a rooster
sings at my window.
Melancholy threatens me
as I find a trace
of your pubic hair on your bed.
So I don’t even want to wash my face,

I don’t feel like doing anything when you leave
but to look for three legs on a lizard
and let the tears wipe away my sleep.
Maybe your love is the mirror
where I look, wash, and comb my hair,
before heading out on the street
ready to win by the waist
all that you’re worth,
to take on the world, to feast on you…

If you’re lacking warmth
how will you keep the thought
that the sun won’t surprise you
when you’re tipsy?
If you’re lacking color
and even white to paint stars,
little black angels
that apparently in heaven
God loves them too.

I wake up bright and early,
The shadow of a rooster
sings at my window.
Melancholy threatens me
as I find a trace
of your pubic hair on your bed.
So I don’t even want to wash my face,
I don’t feel like doing anything when…

And if you’re lacking warmth
how will you keep the thought
that the sun won’t surprise you
when you’re tipsy?
If you’re lacking color
and even white to paint stars,
little black angels
that apparently in heaven
God loves them too.

Bring it, bring it, bring it, bring me some fire
and I’ll bring the roses for dinner.
Bring it, bring it, bring it, bring me some fire.
Give me a hit because I look like a lost soul.