La Rubia Tarada

Conchette faces, berret looks
And men fitted into Fiorucci
Hey, give me and I want and don't get involved
Did you like the new Bertolucci?

The stupid, tanned, boring blonde
He tells me: Why did you fight?
And me: Because of the disgust that your society gives
For today's hair, how much did you spend?

A pseudo punk, with a finite accent
He wants to play the bad boy
He twists his mouth, fixes his hair
Take a drink and go back to Belgrano

Enough, I'm leaving, heading for the door
And then to a bowling alley on the corner
To have a gin with awake people
This is Argentina