No Quiero Ser Un Poeta

She will comb her hair a little and she will look so pretty
and she will go out whispering her things at dawn
and I will need something more than tap water
to remove the sleep from my eyes,
to me, made of nothing,
nothing mixed with the smoke of the bars,
it's worth nothing if it doesn't count your freckles,
oh the one who tries to conquer the whole moon
with some shitty verse, separate it from my side,
look at her all smiling even if I sing badly to her
totally calm and still, because with her, no,
I don't want to be a poet,
she will comb her hair a little and she will look so pretty
and I will be getting gray hairs from waiting so long,
because the early morning washes all the dirty clothes
of the soul that I will surely dirty again
in the morning, take away my wings, throw me to the ground
I want to be where I am called, because from the sky
the heart doesn't smell like anything,
oh the one who tries to conquer the whole moon
with some shitty verse, separate it from my side,
look at her all smiling even if I sing badly to her,
very calm and still, because with her, no,
I don't want to be a poet.