El Príncipe De La Ciudad

In his glass tower,
above the national bank
lives the prince of the city.
Admired by many,
envy is the norm.
With success in his hands,
who could ask for more.

He's a good negotiator,
and a charming playboy,
favorite of social logic.
Four yachts, three Van Gogh,
and in the parking lot: two Rolls Royce,
and in his heart a void,
that he can't seem to close.

And in his eyes that drive the ladies crazy,
and that he now always hides behind his glasses,
nostalgia colors his pupils,
and paints a watercolor
of moments with her.

Oh, love, you stole my heart.
And even though I have everything,
I'm a poor beggar,
because I don't have your love.

Oh, love, you've taken my reason.
And even though no one understands,
now nothing interests me
because I don't have your love.

In the glass prison,
above the National Bank,
the prince of the city dies.
No one can understand,
he doesn't care anymore,
and those who knew him
no longer know what to think.

Confined up there in his abode,
you can always see him in front of the window.
And he shoots X-rays at the streets,
and looks for her among the people,
and waits, in case she returns.

Oh love, you stole my heart.
And even though I have everything,
I'm a poor beggar,
because I don't have your love.

Oh love, you've taken my reason.
And even though no one understands,
now nothing interests me
because I lack your love.

chorus: Oh love, you stole my heart....
This love that condemns me so much, I carry it so deeply in my veins
And even though I have everything, I'm a poor beggar but of love
Nostalgia always accompanies me because my heart still misses you
And how I miss you, love
And even though no one understands, now nothing interests me more than your love
In the glass prison above the national bank, the prince of the city dies