Una ciudad llamada Perdición

He earns a living by losing it
in the heartless city.
His name sounds like a cemetery
you know it as well as I do.
Its sky is made of black asphalt,
moon and stars are neon.
Lights in the rich neighborhoods,
in the poor ones, not even the sun shines.

Its water sources spew blood.
Irrigation pumps spit sweat.
Sewers, gasoline.
Its cement gardens are.
The rain that falls is tears.
The music, honking and engine.
Needles bloom in the parks.
Its paradises are called alcohol.

Its rivers have dry beds,
its women boredom, frustration.
Through the sewers goes the man,
through the streets marches the mouse.
People have tired eyes.
Dreams of lead, coal hair.
The nights weigh on their shoulders,
their thoughts are disillusionment.

The city is called Perdition.
The city is called Perdition.
The city is called Perdition.
The city is called Perdition.

The factories steal your time.
Only two days of fun
for five mornings of cold
and being under the boss's foot.
He lost his life earning it
in the heartless city.
His name is... Perdition
You knew it as well as I did.

The city is called Perdition.
The city is called Perdition.
The city is called Perdition.
The city is called Perdition.