Picnic En El 4º B

There's one who can't stop
Talking about glamour
And he just thinks about eating
His forbidden fruit
My majesty is lost
Among a crowd
Wetting the carpet
With his diva dreams

Picnic on the 4th floor
It's a matter of voltage
Picnic on the 4th floor
You've got me used to it

They knock on the door
For the tenth time
Someone is missing
When I put on that worn-out face
And the alcohol wears off
In the landslide I'll be able to stick my nose out
And go out into the street

Picnic on the 4th floor
It's a matter of voltage
Picnic on the 4th floor
You've got me used to it

I prefer to wander aimlessly
Than to wallpaper my room
I thought I changed that sound
And here I am
Dancing to this damn song
Oh, no, this is not my night