Cumbia de Los Locos

There are crazies by birth,
There are crazies by illness,
There are scatterbrained crazies,
Others pretend to be crazy
And they are the most cunning.

The true crazy
Is the one who eats honey,
Is the one who doesn't feel cold,
Smokes cigarette butts from the ground.

Of musician, poet, and crazy,
We all have a bit.
Of musician, poet, and crazy,
We all have a bit.

How!
Look how they enjoy it,
My buddy Vicente Arroba
With Jean Miranda,
The crazies from Ecuador.

The scatterbrained crazies
Are crazies who throw stones,
Crazies who stand up,
That's why they are tied up.

The crazies by illness
Are the weak-minded,
Who, due to too much study,
Are also calm crazies.

Of musician, poet, and crazy,
We all have a bit.
Of musician, poet, and crazy,
We all have a bit.

And in Monterrey,
A special crazy, Joel Luna,
Juuuh!

Those who pretend to be crazy,
Were born very cocky,
They are the ones who live off stories,
If you pay attention,
They leave you without pants.

But the most special ones
Are the intelligent crazies,
Crazies who are in history,
For the bombs and the planes,
With rockets and televisions.

But the craziest ones,
Are the ones who make the songs.

Of musician, poet, and crazy,
We all have a bit.
Of musician, poet, and crazy,
We all have a bit.

Of musician, poet, and crazy,
We all have a bit.
Of musician, poet, and crazy,
We all have a bit.