Pobre Manuel

Through the street he always goes staggering
He walks slowly and on foot
The beat is marking him, the rhythm goes from head to feet
The rain fell, people scatter, and Manuel keeps playing
He keeps playing and keeps looking for notes that scare and calm his thirst

Poor Manuel, and a girl falls on him
Poor Manuel, and the guitar breaks in three
Poor Manuel, couldn't have worse luck
Poor Manuel, what are you going to do?

Manuel is me, or Manuel is you, Manuel is anyone
Who has a virtue
He cures life's ills with drink
Sleeps on the avenue and doesn't take care of his health
His skill pulses, he hates the calendar, doesn't need it
He needs to talk, has an incendiary tongue
Sings his heart, sings his anger

Poor Manuel, a girl falls on him
Poor Manuel, and the guitar breaks in three
Poor Manuel, couldn't have worse luck
Poor Manuel, what are you going to do?

He doesn't want your money, just wants a healthy guitar to get by
From September to February, without catching pneumonia
In this damn city
He doesn't want your money, just wants a healthy guitar to get by
From September to February
And turn winter into cheerful solitude

You can learn, you can learn

If you look at Manuel, you can learn that life is not to be
To be or to seem, that some come and others go
Come and get bread, the sauce is running out

If you look at Manuel, you can learn that life is not to be
To be or to seem, that some come and others go, come and get bread
The sauce is running out
If you look at Manuel

He doesn't want your money
From September to February
Just wants a healthy guitar to get by
Without catching pneumonia
In this damn city
He doesn't want your money
Just wants a healthy guitar to get by
From September to February
And turn winter into cheerful solitude