Dice La Gente
Dice la gente que yo soy flamenco
Que el pelo me brilla distinto
Que me enamoré de la luna
Y que cada noche me cuelgo en sus hilos
Dice la gente que soy un roquero
Parido por una gitana
Que me bautizaron los Beatles
En la orilla que da pa Triana
Dice la gente, la gente dice
Lo que le sale de las narices
Pero tú, niña, no les hagas caso
Y quédate con lo que te canto
Que cantando te lo cuento
Yo le canto a tu carita, para mí la más bonita
Y le canto a los colores que dibuja el horizonte
Yo le canto a Andalucía, propietaria de mi alma
Y rebusco la alegría por los escombros del drama
Para buscarme la vida, para hacerme mi camino
Me sobra con mi guitarra no necesito cuchillo, oh oh
No necesito cuchillo, oh oh
No necesito cuchillo
Dice la gente que fui marinero
Que tengo amistad con el viento
Que cada tarde me cuenta sus cosas
Que son las cosas que yo canto luego
Dice la gente, la gente dice
Lo que le sale de las narices
Pero tú, niña, no les hagas caso
Y quédate con lo que te canto
Que cantando te lo cuento
Yo le canto a tu carita, para mí la más bonita
Y le canto a los colores que dibuja el horizonte
Yo le canto a Andalucía, propietaria de mi alma
Y rebusco la alegría por los escombros del drama
Para buscarme la vida, para hacerme mi camino
Me sobra con mi guitarra no necesito cuchillo, oh oh
No necesito cuchillo, oh oh
No necesito cuchillo
Dice la gente, la gente dice
Lo que le sale de las narices
Pero tú, niña, no les hagas caso
Y quédate con lo que te canto
Que cantando te lo cuento
Yo le canto a tu carita, para mí la más bonita
Y le canto a los colores que dibuja el horizonte
Yo le canto a Andalucía, propietaria de mi alma
Y rebusco la alegría por los escombros del drama
Para buscarme la vida, para hacerme mi camino
Me sobra con mi guitarra no necesito cuchillo, oh oh
No necesito cuchillo, oh oh
No necesito
People Say
People say that I am flamenco
That my hair shines differently
That I fell in love with the moon
And that every night I hang on its threads
People say that I am a rocker
Born from a gypsy
That I was baptized by the Beatles
On the shore that leads to Triana
People say, people say
Whatever comes out of their noses
But you, girl, don't pay attention to them
And stay with what I sing to you
That by singing I tell you
I sing to your little face, the most beautiful to me
And I sing to the colors drawn by the horizon
I sing to Andalusia, owner of my soul
And I search for joy among the debris of drama
To make a living, to make my way
I have more than enough with my guitar, I don't need a knife, oh oh
I don't need a knife, oh oh
I don't need a knife
People say I was a sailor
That I am friends with the wind
That every evening it tells me its things
Which are the things that I later sing
People say, people say
Whatever comes out of their noses
But you, girl, don't pay attention to them
And stay with what I sing to you
That by singing I tell you
I sing to your little face, the most beautiful to me
And I sing to the colors drawn by the horizon
I sing to Andalusia, owner of my soul
And I search for joy among the debris of drama
To make a living, to make my way
I have more than enough with my guitar, I don't need a knife, oh oh
I don't need a knife, oh oh
I don't need a knife
People say, people say
Whatever comes out of their noses
But you, girl, don't pay attention to them
And stay with what I sing to you
That by singing I tell you
I sing to your little face, the most beautiful to me
And I sing to the colors drawn by the horizon
I sing to Andalusia, owner of my soul
And I search for joy among the debris of drama
To make a living, to make my way
I have more than enough with my guitar, I don't need a knife, oh oh
I don't need a knife, oh oh
I don't need a knife