Soy Un Músico

I'm a musician, I'm a bitch.
I'm a musician, I'm the worst.
I'm a musician, I'm nobody.
I'm a musician, I don't exist.
And I'll spend my whole life always putting on a show
Entertaining at fancy parties with ties and hors d'oeuvres.
Covering more miles of asphalt than necessary
And begging for my salary for a sandwich and a coffee.

And I admire the hustlers, they seem like great men:
At least they call things by their name.

And I'm telling you that you and I can't understand each other
If you dare to tell me again: 'that's how you make yourselves known'.
It's not that I don't want to play in your brothel,
It's that you deny that I deserve even the basics to eat.

I'm eating shit, I'm smoking crap,
It's the price I pay for doing what I love.

I'm a musician, I'm a bitch.
I'm a musician, I'm the worst.
I'm a musician, I'm nobody.
I'm a musician, I don't exist.

I've already told you what I study and you've asked me again.
I've already told you my job and it doesn't quite fit for you.
What do you think? Did I escape from the local zoo?
I repeat that I'm a musician, you piece of animal.

Without a damn clue of what a quarter note is
You assign me the task of dealing with the worst situation.
Working in something cool should be normal
But you work for a pig who screws you in the ass.
Find something you like, don't feel incapable
Or get scared if you want, but leave me alone.

Make room in your acorn and assimilate this concept:
I work with notes, it's a job, not a flaw.