Los Días Raros
Vetusta Morla
Strange Days
Open it, open it slowly
Say what you see, tell me what you see, if there's something
A brief and fleeting spring between hands
Touch to tune, define in one stroke
Tune in, regroup pieces
From my collection of medals and scratches
It's here, who saw it?
Dances like a ribbon in a fan
Who would have thought that without coal
There are no wise men?
There are still vices to perfect
In the strange days
We will uncover ourselves in intimacy
With the tip of the shoe
It's here, who saw it?
Dances like a ribbon in a fan
Who would have thought that without a blot
There is no deal?
The future dressed
With the emperor's new clothes
Who would have thought that without coal
There are no wise men?
We have many more
Gifts to open
Coins that, when turned
Reveal a profile
And the cellophane begins
And ends in echo
