De Los Matorrales
Los Delinqüentes
From the Thickets
The good taste is noticeable in this blue air
and the style of my shoes as I walk
looking for an extension, a place to step
ground to plug in the tape recorder.
Because imaginable little things want to come down
from the air, this world is a washing machine spinning
all hours, except you...
Who don't realize that life is not a race
I come from the thickets of a shanty
without glass where the children
do not wear costumes or suits.
I also stumbled upon the rubble
of the city, but I wanted to take control
without stepping back, and I bloom a little more
every time I go to sing, I gain momentum
and jump the speed bump.
Because life is a detail with more
secrets than the stew,
there are people with money who only want
to scratch the sky, like you...
Who don't realize that life is not a race
I come from the thickets of a shanty
without glass where the children
do not wear costumes or suits.
If I don't play another round, if they chase me
if there's gravel, I tie my laces
and start running.
Brown eye like smoke
when I sleep I consume myself
I cover my ears
and start flying away from you.
Today rolling through my being
with rusty nuts
I saw an eagle unable to fly
and what does it matter if the storm
or if the rats from the trash
what does it matter if I have a dog on the moon.
If this music that plays
from the depths of my cave
scares the men in suits
and with millions like you...
Who don't realize that life is not a race
I come from the thickets of a shanty
without glass where the children
do not wear costumes or suits.
