Medio Muerto (feat. DeeJohend)

Yeah, yeah

I doubt my talent just like Kafka
Living in this damn mess, and I spit out damn mess
I earn respect by cursing in other places
I don’t throw phrases in the air, I take a breath and art is born
In my throat: A curse, in my chest: A curse
On the highway: A curse, in my pocket: A curse
Leave me alone to see if I feel something
'Cause I’ve been half dead for a long time
I paint nudes, Débora Arango
I dance this tango but I’m both
From depression, I come to paint these pictures
My ideas scare more than thugs acting tough
What am I doing sleeping on the couch?
What am I doing believing life is a verse without an end?
I owe everything to those who treat me bad
I grew up in war, and if there’s not one, I’ll start one
And that’s it

This is another one of many where I’m drinking alone
I’m talking to the faucet, shouting that chorus with passion
Passing the hours, thinking about the time when my calm will come
My love, what a paradox
Those who love each other get hurt
This is another one of many where I’m drinking alone
I’m talking to the faucet, shouting that chorus with passion
Passing the hours, thinking about the time when my calm will come
My love, what a paradox
Those who love each other get hurt

Hey, you’re going to therapy, congrats
But keep your distance with your little advice (from afar)
I have my own traumas
I want to grab a gun to rip out your soul
To blow your head off
Then blow my own head off
I was the kid dreaming in a room
I’m no longer a kid, nor do I find myself in a room
What a fucking loneliness
What a fucking sobriety
Drugs don’t catch me, I want to take another route
One where I tell myself things that I won’t argue
Now I understand my alcoholic uncle
The one who went from Catholic to chaotic
Now I know that time flies by
And what I say with my mouth, I repeat with my soul

This is another one of many where I’m drinking alone
I’m talking to the faucet, shouting that chorus with passion
Passing the hours, thinking about the time when my calm will come
My love, what a paradox
Those who love each other get hurt
This is another one of many where I’m drinking alone
I’m talking to the faucet, shouting that chorus with passion
Passing the hours, thinking about the time when my calm will come
My love, what a paradox
Those who love each other get hurt