Cromosomos

We're friends of the canned souls
We're friends of the head prophylactic
We're friends of the stamped girls
We're atheists in a sky that someone stole from us

We're dolls that only work on a spring
We're life consumed like a water heater
We're the spiritual guide of your pupils
We're spark plugs just for this engine

We're friends of the one who gives you candy
We're splinters that came out of the same drawer
We're us, so to speak
We're the monkeys in this jungle that keeps us warm

We're wooden knives in a blacksmith's house
We're the lava of a volcano erupting
We're the number that hits you in the balls
We're songs that aren't made on any campfire

We're friends of the canned souls
We're friends of the head prophylactic
We're friends of the stamped girls
We're atheists in a sky that someone stole from us

We're tonsils of a young throat
You don't have to make it, just be the revolution
We're a storm on a Saturday in Punta del Este
We're the cumbia you played by mistake

On this little chessboard,
What do you choose to be?
To be eaten or to eat the King
In the end, no one cares,
As long as they have the cake in hand

We sing so you can see
If we are what we are, there's a reason
We sing our history
If we are what we are, it must mean something