El Vendedor de Fantasías
Con el moño, desparejo, con gemelos la camisa
Un esmoquin, algo viejo, y con Gardel en la sonrisa
No le importa el escenario ni su nombre en cartelera
Una foto en blanco y negro está pegada en la vidriera
Siempre quiso ser artista, siempre quiso ser cantante
Y en el fondo de su alma es un loco delirante
Nunca supo si lo amaron, siempre supo que ha querido
El amor es el desorden de un poeta confundido
Traficante de ilusiones, vendedor de fantasías
Viejo mago sin galera, dónde está la que querías
Te dejó una madrugada, tú pensabas que volvía
Ya no late el corazón como latía
Traficante de ilusiones, vendedor de fantasías
Vas buscando entre las mesas la que tanto te mentía
Y que no supo entender ni la vida que vivías
Siempre fuiste un vendedor de fantasías
Ya no encuentras maquillaje que te cubra las ojeras
Porque el tiempo va pasando y ese amor que nunca llega
Y si llega, tienes miedo que descubra tu mirada
Trasnochada de dolor y madrugadas
Con el moño, desparejo, con gemelos la camisa
Un esmoquin, algo viejo, y con Gardel en la sonrisa
No le importa el escenario ni su nombre en cartelera
Una foto en blanco y negro está pegada en la vidriera
Traficante de ilusiones, vendedor de fantasías
Viejo mago sin galera, dónde está la que querías
Te dejó una madrugada, tú pensabas que volvía
Ya no late el corazón como latía
Traficante de ilusiones, vendedor de fantasías
Vas buscando entre las mesas la que tanto te mentía
Y que no supo entender ni la vida que vivías
Siempre fuiste un vendedor de fantasías
The Fantasy Seller
With the uneven bow tie, with cufflinks on the shirt
A tuxedo, somewhat old, and with Gardel in his smile
He doesn't care about the stage or his name on the marquee
A black and white photo is stuck on the shop window
He always wanted to be an artist, always wanted to be a singer
And deep in his soul, he's a crazy dreamer
He never knew if he was loved, always knew he wanted
Love is the disorder of a confused poet
Trafficker of illusions, seller of fantasies
Old magician without a top hat, where is the one you wanted
She left you one early morning, you thought she'd come back
The heart no longer beats as it used to
Trafficker of illusions, seller of fantasies
You search among the tables for the one who lied to you so much
And who couldn't understand the life you were living
You've always been a seller of fantasies
You can't find makeup to cover your dark circles
Because time keeps passing and that love that never comes
And if it does, you're afraid it will discover your gaze
Tired from pain and early mornings
With the uneven bow tie, with cufflinks on the shirt
A tuxedo, somewhat old, and with Gardel in his smile
He doesn't care about the stage or his name on the marquee
A black and white photo is stuck on the shop window
Trafficker of illusions, seller of fantasies
Old magician without a top hat, where is the one you wanted
She left you one early morning, you thought she'd come back
The heart no longer beats as it used to
Trafficker of illusions, seller of fantasies
You search among the tables for the one who lied to you so much
And who couldn't understand the life you were living
You've always been a seller of fantasies
Escrita por: Cacho Castaña