El Juego

He leaves his house, slams the door: the ball under his arm, jumps the wall and the gate. He crosses to the corner wasteland where the world lights up and every child is a champion.

And in the middle of the afternoon, a goal shines much more than the sun. And life seems like a game, a game that we can all win.

He spins the poisoned ball. The neighborhood balconies, the kid's footsteps. An old man with glasses and tie talks about money with his father and has a whiskey in the garden.

And in the middle of the field, he, with the world spinning at his feet. And life seems like a game, a game that we can all win.

Happiness shines brightly, riding in the blind stampede of the crowd. The golden light of the medals will hang on the wall of ingratitude.

And in the middle of the night, there is no silence to remember that life seems like a game, a game that we can all win.

But the tall angel of glory has a very bad memory and forgets who you are. When he sees fortune change, he leaves the stands and leaves you alone.

And in the middle of life is that child without his eternity. And life seems like a game, a game that we can all win.