Punchdrunk
It wore him down;
his head was hanging sideways, his lids were slits.
This happened almost nightly now.
He raised the gloves and waited for another round.
He waited for the bell to ring,
he prayed the lord would save his eyes.
He heard church-folk swaying and sighing, "it's all right".
He liked his kids, he liked his sky-blue Valiant, he liked thepay.
"The boss' fine young talent" they all would say.
And just a pension later he'll be free, do what he wants.
Bereave the dream, now sleep, now slowly die.
Aturdido por los golpes
Lo agotaba;
su cabeza estaba inclinada de lado, sus párpados apenas abiertos.
Esto sucedía casi todas las noches ahora.
Levantó los guantes y esperó otra ronda.
Esperó que sonara la campana,
rezó para que el Señor salvara sus ojos.
Escuchó a los feligreses balanceándose y suspirando, 'todo está bien'.
Le gustaban sus hijos, le gustaba su Valiant azul cielo, le gustaba el pago.
'El talento joven y fino del jefe', todos decían.
Y solo una pensión más tarde será libre, hará lo que quiera.
Lamentar el sueño, ahora dormir, ahora morir lentamente.
Escrita por: Chris Robyn / Shaun Lopez