El Cap Per Avall

We survived the fire
We faced the giant
We took that painting and danced
The dance: The head down dance

Frozen paella, cardboard falleras
Smell of burnt tire, hair gel and procession
Greet the gentleman, school of tricksters
The saint strolling, a kiss and a flower
We're going to make a fortune, a weekend in Benidorm
Put your hand on it and be quiet, concrete beaches
Living like this is dying of love, Milans del Bosch sang
The regional anthem brings tears
Pages and pages, of a tragic farce that tears souls apart
No paso doble at the soccer field
Raise your right hand, the fans in the north curve
A nightclub in the middle of a rice field
Crooked holes in the land of flowers
The Geperudeta, kissing the Moreneta
Vendetta!! Vendetta and new glories on offer
Where the world is explained in diminutive
Where the harvest of dry and irrigated land cries
It rains with a burrera, but the river always runs dry
And a flag cuts like a double-edged sword
We live the life of a gaidó, you'll end up like Pelletes in Alcoi
From Mondúver to Penyagolosa and Benicadell
The village will be a hammer or a dead weight

We survived the fire
We faced the giant
We endured those bombs
That still echo through mountains and valleys
We defied those rules
We desecrated their saints
We took that painting and danced
The dance: The head down dance

I come from where they wanted to make a falla, land of fire and salt
Where shrapnel pierced and shattered glass
Where the mountains descend in terraces to show off terraced fields
That bring joys, sorrows, and food
I come from the coastal vegetable gardens sustained by brutal debts
Of microclimate and macro-scam, sad and real
Wheelers dealing, true heroes
Kidnappers of La Marina and El Comtat
Oranges and olives, cherries and grapes
Descendants of Moors, children of Majorcans
Where the party doesn't stop until Wednesday begins
And all problems dissolve in anise. We have
A den of thieves in every city
Too much exploitation per square meter
A brought coast, a desire to escape
With a train north that never arrives
Abandoned fields, who wants to plow when they could be rich?
Overworked tourists, life goes by
Every spring some dreamer gets excited
When the flowery valley bursts
So many wrong turns on so many dates
The tree had never been ripe
We knew it would be tough, no name
No map, no future: Loves that kill
We hunt the rats and knock down the walls

We survived the fire