Criticarem Les Noves Modes de Pentinats

Years will come and, with the years, the calmness
That will paint a soft look in your eyes.
You will take one step and then another,
You will be an expert at moving forward.
With so much time, you will have found a nice place,
Or you might be a bit lazy to look for one.
You will be treated like a lady, or a strange grandma
Who scares all the kids in the neighborhood.

You will be a bag of flaws or you will be a rock.
And the moments of looking back will amuse you and hurt you.
And maybe I won't be your friend,
I won't have anything to do with whether you are happy or not.
I can already see myself as a somewhat sad memory that crosses your mind
One bad afternoon.
And maybe I will sleep cuddled up
To a woman to whom I will have hardly explained who you are.
Maybe we will have bastard grandchildren who won't give a damn about me
When I don't understand things.

But when I am old, I will keep singing you songs, the same.
I will walk slowly and sit down, sometimes, on benches.
Verse by verse, I will summon your long, white body
And they will see me smile a bit under my nose.

Let the years come! Here is the calmness!
I play with the decay of the flesh
A corner of the dining room will be the stage
And no one will suspect who I am talking about.

And when I am old, I will keep singing you songs, the same.
I don't know if I will be able to guarantee you great quality
But I will believe in a verse and I will distract myself trying to extend it
And they will see me smile a bit under my nose,
And they will see me smile a bit under my nose.