La jungla se está
Comiendo a mi mujer
Y yo que es lo que puedo hacer.
Sentado en mi trono
Lustrando mi pistola.
El suelo es gris
Y el cielo es violeta
En este holocausto
Sangriento y mental.
domingo, 20 de marzo de 2011
A Copy Of The Ticket
There´s the kid in the corner
Sitting down every night
Hanging out
Drinking beer
Planning all relaxed
Making a stand
There´s that Pretty looking girl
Fighting from inside
Looking strangly for her
Everything from above.
There are four guys
Laughing in a bar
Making a fine team
Far from the linolium scene
Of that little soft asshole regime.
There´s a water fountain
Where nobody wash any sin.
There´s an old broken mirror
An old broken screen
And then in creation
The energy frows
Turning the skies
Turning the curvature of the nearests streets.
And the doomed get crazy
Some of them setting free
And the assholes scrath there heads
Until some little spark of light start to burn up there brains.
That´s something like the way
Of the ones
That just need to be
Allways on a trip.
Sitting down every night
Hanging out
Drinking beer
Planning all relaxed
Making a stand
There´s that Pretty looking girl
Fighting from inside
Looking strangly for her
Everything from above.
There are four guys
Laughing in a bar
Making a fine team
Far from the linolium scene
Of that little soft asshole regime.
There´s a water fountain
Where nobody wash any sin.
There´s an old broken mirror
An old broken screen
And then in creation
The energy frows
Turning the skies
Turning the curvature of the nearests streets.
And the doomed get crazy
Some of them setting free
And the assholes scrath there heads
Until some little spark of light start to burn up there brains.
That´s something like the way
Of the ones
That just need to be
Allways on a trip.
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