Pistolas

You took so much care of yourself and now you're rasped
Nobody came to see you
I remember when you were dancing, I remember that you didn't even look
I never really understood
A neckline that ends where the drop begins
From some fool without a net
It didn't save you the day you were going out, arguing and the button
He threw it and you see

Hot cement to the pink floor the wall that made you
Howl like a baby
Retirees of a right that was cut like a fern
The roof collapsed
Alone, and again with nothing after having given entry
No way out of old age
The veins of the boys and girls are rumbling as they charge
Again

Self-firing guns
Fallen, all unknown
Batons, which hit without reason
Death is a matter of luck

Pistols (that fire themselves)
Fallen (all unknown)
Batons (that hit for no reason)
Death is a matter of luck

That's it, there's nothing more to say
It will come out where you did not expect
Let them just kill each other, let them just kill each other
Let them just kill each other in Greater Buenos Aires
In the back

Make your ghetto, stay in your neighborhood
And don't adjust the rosary belt
Santiago del Estero, fighting for his money
Let's put police officers who just kill each other
Let them just kill each other
Maybe it's not the wine