Run Run se fue pa'l Norte

In a car of forgetfulness,
before the dawn breaks,
from a station of time,
determined to roll.
Run Run went up North,
I don’t know when he’ll come back.
He’ll come back for the birthday
of our loneliness.

Three days later, a letter
with coral-like writing,
telling me that his trip
keeps stretching on and on,
leaving Antofagasta
without a sign,
and recounting an adventure
that he had to spell out.
Oh my!

In the middle of a crowd
that he had to face,
a transfer because of
the last hurricane.

On a broken bridge
near Vallenar,
with a cross on his shoulder,
Run Run had to cross.

Run Run continued his journey,
arrived at Tamarugal.
Sitting on a stone,
he started to daydream,
about this, about that,
about never, about more,
that life is a lie,
that death is the truth.
Oh my!

The thing is, a satchel
he started to rummage,
took out paper and ink,
a memory perhaps.

Without sorrow or joy,
without glory, without mercy,
without anger or bitterness,
without bile or freedom.

Empty like the void
of the earthly world,
Run Run sent his letter
just to send it.
Run Run went up North,
I stayed in the South,
in the middle there’s an abyss
without music or light.
Oh my!

The calendar loosens
by the wheels of the train,
the numbers of the year
on the edge of the rail.

The metal keeps turning,
more clouds in the month,
the rails are getting longer,
the aftermath is more bitter.

Run Run went up North,
what can we do?
That’s life then,
thorns of Israel,
crucified love,
crown of disdain,
the nails of martyrdom,
the vinegar and the bile.
Oh my!