El Uno, El Dos, El Tres

That day will come one day
It won't be soon or late;
When there are no more matches,
It's the finger that burns.

What goes up must come down,
And although during the climb
It's not a matter of looking at your feet,
I don't know if this rope team
Has thought about the descent.

If that day the tables turn,
You'll see that few remain on deck.
The one, the two, the three
And stop counting,
Because in the game of hide and seek
The others have hidden.
The one, the two, the three
And stop singing
Because no one is interested in listening.

Although in photos we may seem more,
We are just three moths
That from hitting the glass so much
Have sneaked into the light bulb,
Until the light of this oil lamp
Is no longer what it was,
And it only turns on
To be seen from the outside,
Like the one in the fridge.

If the tables turn from that rennet,
You'll see that few remain on deck.
The one, the two, the three
And stop counting
Because in the game of hide and seek
The others have hidden.
The one, the two, the three
And stop singing
Because no one is interested in listening.

And maybe we'll go back to the bar
To sing for ourselves,
The song