Yo, Caníbal
Patricio Rey y Sus Redonditos de Ricota
I, Cannibal
The menu is not understood
but the sauce is abundant.
I am a gourmet who perpetually smells bad.
Old compotes that give no respite
to the cannibal within me
(who is not well received at such a banquet).
Fortunes are kneaded, pockets are filled
with dry prey, fake gold, vermouth.
They finish off my brain with bites,
drinking the juice of my heart
and tell me stories at bedtime.
To a lamb of my style
to a cannibal of my style.
I go to the Colosseum to set myself on fire
(my streak of being a novice will never change).
Please! Let the goodbye not be prolonged
I'm tired of waiting so long...
when the fire grows, I want to be there.
A lamb of my style
to a cannibal of my style.
