Ahi vienen los Jets

I was lying on a street,
from afar I could see them coming,
the exact certainty that there will be a commotion,
phew! I refuse to resist.

Talking to more than one at a time,
looking for a borrowed car,
lacking objectives, not at all bored,
there must be something to do.

We wander from bar to bar
in penance, to find
the own soul wrapped in glass
in the empty bottle of Canadian Club.

When the night begins to crack
and you already know what you'll find,
there will always be a floor and a bunch of records
to chat around.

You wake up lying on the carpet
already out of cigarettes and everything closed,
the Four Seasons sound
Sorrows and Flamingos,
a sunbeam caresses you.

Keep your girl, she might get cold,
from the news on the first channel,
a politician appears on TV,
let the music from the transistor drown him.

And on the way to the Nou Camp
the Jets pass by whistling a song,
above their heads bombers howl,
the day after has arrived.

And in the sky of the Diagonal
they see the trails left behind
the black birds release in their flight
a deadly napalm trail.

We say goodbye, maybe it's the end,
maybe someday I'll meet them again,
maybe if there's still a bar standing,
they'll gather around the ghost jukebox.