El pelado y la mocosa

He was tangled up in work, a boss in an insurance company with a country house in Pilar
Cholesterol through the roof, four hairs in the pot about to fall out
He smoked cigars at night with poker buddies who couldn't stand him
And paid on Panamericana for a woman in bed every first of the month

She was always with kids who went to Matogrosso to practice transcendental meditation
Tarot books and Dalai Lama, jumping from bed to bed, marijuana, love and peace
The cloth with handicrafts didn't stop the piggy bank and she had to share the rent
She worked as a waitress but left with anyone who spoke well of Che
And now he asks her to come back to his country house in Pilar
Because the nights are filled with ghosts and sorrows every time she leaves
And now he asks her to come back to his country house in Pilar
Because the money is not enough and the soul is hungry every time she leaves.

She was always on a bicycle, gave money to the beggars, liked Greenpeace t-shirts
He didn't know espadrilles, loosened his tie only to sleep
She smiled at everyone and took stray dogs to her house to sleep
He rode the horse in the office if he saw a woman stop writing to him.

She had eye drops in her backpack, was an active militant against palm hearts and tuna
He had never gone on a picnic and started with whiskey at vermouth time
She hung out with jugglers, tattoo artists, and carnival musicians, the clichés of San Pedro and hashish
He choked on expertise and babbled about financial news from Clarín

And now he asks her to come back to his country house in Pilar
Because the nights are filled with ghosts and sorrows every time she leaves
And now he asks her to come back to his country house in Pilar
Because the money is not enough and the soul is hungry every time she leaves.