Paladar

I arrive at the fifty club
and a hand brings the bill.
The total catches my eye
from today until my cradle.
Every fire, every effort,
every day, every dream,
comes with a price tag,
despite what's been paid.

I wonder what kind of business this is
where even desire is a consumption.
What will I do when I bill the sun?
But I always turn my face to the east
demanding a new breakfast
regardless of the cost of love.

Bring on debts, inflations,
vouchers, fines, recessions.
Try to steal from me
the flavor of my bolero.
Whoever the manager is,
charge me promptly
(that bloody hand will know
when I hand over my bill).

I wonder what kind of business this is
where even desire is a consumption.
What will I do when I bill the sun?
But I always turn my face to the east
demanding a new breakfast
regardless of the cost of love.