El Vagabundo de La Cuadra

The bum from the block is searching for stones on the ground
He finished the three grams of crystal and now he's feeling like a porcupine
The stuff is white, blue, sometimes reddish
A light and five rocks so that several addicts can try that mix

I hope they never know what it feels like
To smoke for two days straight and it’s still not enough
Lose six pounds, let your teeth rot
Fucking meth, my curse was meeting you

People look down on me for my appearance
You took my house and family, I live under a bridge
They forgot my name, now they call me a vagrant
Even though it’s all colorful, the vibe looks sad

(In the same place that reeks of abandonment and smells of failure)

This shit is listened to by those who crawled out of sewers
I can’t handle the anxiety, I’ve already smoked three packs
I don’t even leave the butts for the cigarettes
Dark circles under my eyes, skin turning yellow
The traits of a junkie suffering from a bad trip

I can’t follow the Christians, they’re on their knees
And I, riding my bike, got to the chapel faster
The soul was made to fall in love, money to be spent
The rope to hang from, the veins to cut

(The same loser that you are)

And very few can save themselves from drugs

(In the same place, where every wall calls you out, where every wall reminds you of the sad and miserable story of your life)