Siempre Volvere

I write in the air for those who are flying
I close my eyes, think of yours, and stay dreaming
Reading what you're thinking
Becoming another letter for my soul with which this tango dances
People look at a crazy person talking to their doubts
But I'm an addict like verses to Neruda
And like Judas tried to leave the world
And like Christ tried to save the world
A world of dying writers
It wouldn't be an insult to say I don't care
That their lyrics are tumors that their mouths later abort
If their minds are power, we'll see how much they endure
They bring very long guns but short inspiration
From my house, I build rhymes without pause, without nausea, without disgust
I put my hand in your rotten heart that makes music of failure
Of blockage that doesn't progress, they are geniuses inside a jar
Today I return, I know you never forget me
Nor me nor your wounds
I don't forget this mountain, my den misses me
In its bowels, it's feared and majestic, it's called Ciudad Bolívar
When they lose hope, feel that rap is falling
Just look up, someone watches on the mountain
Because we will always return at an inopportune moment
Where Neptune turns my mind into smoke
And tortures number one

We will always, always return
Until death

I will return for a coffee, I will toast for meeting you
Probably with a semi-dry wine in a transparent glass
Cheers for those who always wait and are patient
The streets are pending, cautious apprentices of error without presidents
I train in front of the mirror
To challenge myself in a duel under my grandfather's advice
You're not a hand and you're not good
You have wings, you have sky
Don't look down anymore, feel the wind in your hair
Join me in flight, we don't know where we'll go
But what we have, we offer when we arrive
We greet the humblest, we listen to them, we sing to them
So that on stage, hands are always up
Music in the bones, kisses after coffee
If you let me, I continue unharmed, rap never left me
I remembered why I started singing this
I kissed cold poetry and nobody knew me
I was different from the rest
Contrary to the master's ego
And contrary to the student who wanted to steal his place
On buses, I read involuntary books, my gestures
The paper undresses and I in its skin, my soul in the recess
With a sixth sense for inspiration to awaken
I will return for a coffee and toast for meeting you