La Chica Del Tírso

Slow words fly, they fly, like a hurricane
doing little hands under the city
it keeps blowing close... you will rest
I keep going, I need gas.

I go down to all places to break
I have never asked you for more
than when you get hooked with that one
save me a sip.

Bad tongues say
you talk to yourself and eat poorly
everyone throws coins
but no one takes it
and silk turns into rolling paper
because it flies and nothing else.

I go down to all places to break
I have never asked you for more
than when you get hooked with that one
save me a sip.

Long days, dirty kisses
that merge uncontrollably
airports, vices out of control
are the remains of the shipwreck.

I go down to all places to break
I have never asked you for more
than when you get hooked with that one
save me a sip...
save me a sip...