El Conventillo

I was born in a tenement
On Olavarría street
On Olavarría street
And I was cradled by the harmony
Of a concert of knives

Old brick patios
Where sensational improvised verses were left
And at the end of the counterpoint
They would make a point
To liven up the evening

When I wanted to take flight
I left the mud for the asphalt
I left the mud for the asphalt
I tried to fly so high
That I almost came crashing down

Like the fox, I lost my fur
But I caught the habit
Of praising the trickery
And at the first opportunity
With some rehearsed fate
To leave it in the open field and the tracks

Once a guy named Loyola
Got me into a bad situation
Got me into a bad situation
Beating, anger, quarrel
Cell phone, brawl, and jail
I played the piano concert
Without understanding a thing about music
And even though they call me ugly
I hung my photograph
Where the gallery is
Of the aces of thievery

Now that I'm in my 40s
In the debt of life
I got a worn-out girl
Who has more than enough

I drive a fancy car
Showing off day and night
Without understanding the trickery
That is envying the shine
That I was born in a tenement
On Olavarría street