Pajarillo

Every day she wore heavy makeup
And sold her body for a high price
From eight to ten on a corner
She was young and unfaithful, a rose with thorns

And her name, I don’t know, I never found out
I never asked, never had the chance
In her skin, she was just a kid
And I only saw her from one pit to another

And she was a little bird with white wings
From balcony to balcony, from square to square
A seller of love, a provider
For the highest bidder of her tune

Five winters passed and she was still there
The same hour as yesterday, the same corner
She was young and faithful and still had the rose of her skin
And the thorn was even bigger

And she smiled at the gazes passing by
Under that streetlight, night after night
Twenty times they took her captive
And she sang her song, behind bars

And she was a little bird with white wings
From balcony to balcony, from square to square
A seller of love, a provider
For the highest bidder of her tune

Her skin got wrinkled
And the makeup wasn’t enough to cover
The mark left by the sixth winter
Her color faded and even her breath

And from eight to ten, just on the corner
That streetlight remained
And that thorn sealed the rose, where would she go?
She was called, I don’t know, and she smiled

And she was a little bird with white wings
From balcony to balcony, from square to square
A seller of love, a provider
For the highest bidder of her tune