4 De Copas
Los Caballeros de la Quema
4 Of Cups
I walk turned and alone.
Last on the table.
The desires shattered
and almost sleepless.
And if I have a devil,
he must be hot.
If an angel takes care of me,
someone ruined it.
I carry entangled
a sadness that names you.
It cuddles up in my bed
and smells like you.
Whenever there's a woman,
a shipwreck looms.
The river starts to swallow me,
back to the 'dofón'...
4 of cups. Tough streak.
Good for nothing worse.
Exchanged, the carnival dances
of this world.
Rats, thieves, whores, rastafarians.
I go out to the street to see
if anyone is still alive:
everyone barking at each other,
everything getting sick.
It won't be easy
so much winter without caresses.
Collecting wounds,
cardboard laughs.
And if I have a devil,
let him pay a round.
And my screwed angel...
let him cry with God.
4 of cups. Tough streak.
Good for nothing worse.
