Cenas Ajenas
Vetusta Morla
Foreign Scenes
As a kid I heard,
If you don't see anything.
Go back,
Take some distance.
Lights turn on again in the houses,
The underwear of this strange night.
I started looking,
Next to my sister,
Families in shadows,
Taking out the axe.
Today I made,
A trench at the window.
To decipher,
Their firefly niches.
What are we going to do to interpret,
The message in Morse,
That their houses send.
What are we going to do to not carry,
The same crosses,
And fall into their traps.
There's an older guy,
In striped pajamas.
Who has been taken hostage,
By the shrews.
His TV acting as a bonfire,
And his attention presiding over the table.
What are we going to do to not hang,
Family photos and plasma screens.
What are we going to do to not chat,
About when we were great,
And it was all for nothing.
The woman sees me and lowers the blinds,
They've caught me again stealing their souls.
What are we going to do to decipher,
The hidden Morse message,
In their houses.
What are we going to do to not carry,
The same crosses and fall into their traps.
Our own traps.
