Por Un Peso Con Cincuenta
Las Pastillas del Abuelo
For a Buck Fifty
Step by step I go towards the top
Confident that I can make it
Bleeding ink, I leave life in a rhyme
Telling stories in plural.
Certainly I like laurels
I have to thank them
They give me what I want to eat
But I want to fly higher
They have to understand me
To sleep I have a box spring.
It seems that nowadays it has no value
To sweat the shirt like a few years ago
For a buck fifty I turn you into a winner
You laugh, cry, lie, dress like that
And don't ask anymore.
Too bad it doesn't matter a damn
To put balls and heart
To fulfill a dream
In these times getting ahead
Is not fashionable, champ
You will never be your own.
Meanwhile, a bandoneon makes me cry on the subway
And in the sky, Piazzolla talks with Discepolín
And they agree that their hearts hurt
To know that what was their life, today
hangs by a thread.
It seems that nowadays ...
Meanwhile, on the subway ...
