Cancheros

We don't want the crumbs, we don't want the bile
We don't want the dirt, baby, to bother us
We don't want the leftovers, we don't want the skin
We're not your beggars, I say it's not going to happen
We don't want to lick your paper
We don't want the remains of your good faith
We don't want the weed, nor your little fish face
Handing out prizes from the TV
They just want you to laugh (how sad it must be)
Lying down, without a penny, you're tired of this poor life
It seems easy, it seems like it is
But when it hits you, I want to see what you do
All your life watching the cool people who knew how to talk
You stayed, locked up, with a cornered heart
Smoking, smoking, smoking, smoking
Smoking, smoking, looking out the window
Smoking, smoking, smoking, smoking
Smoking, smoking, smoking marijuana
And there was a day when you couldn't bear it
And you went out to the street because you had to scream
And the cool people? ... dead
The cool people the cool people dead
The cool people? ... dead
The cool people the cool people the cool people dead
You started looking for someone who had magic to give
You started looking for a simple heart
An open heart, a heart of drum, a heart of drum.