La Estación Eterna

I've been awake for hours with the blue of the sirens
Humming a shitty song
I have a lump in my side, and a good crisis
Last night my chain came off

My bravest friends
Are still fixing the world out there
What a strange birthday
Forty in quarantine
Forty in quarantine

I've combed the outskirts with my racing bike
And some old-school short tights
I miss my brothers, in the black van
The road sharks

I hear on the radio
My star commentator dies
What a strange birthday
Forty in quarantine
Forty in quarantine

Going around in circles, I've been a whole week
Camouflaging my existential disaster
It smells like stormy sky, and I'm dying for it to come back
Even if it's just a bit of normality

Every night I fart making chain mistakes
I blow up my penultimate chance
With the war mask, and a receipt in the glove compartment
I go down to see if I see someone real