El Guacho
El tipo tiene miedo, el tipo esta asustado
Y quiere que el estado le devuelva su costado
Antes estuvo entero, ahora fragmentado
Se mira y se repite: Soy un despatentado
Dos días atrás el tipo con su vida
En la actualidad su identidad se encuentra ida
Falta espíritu en tu hombría para estar constituida
Pobre tipo, és victima de su alma cautiva
Un día cualquiera, despierta el guacho solitario
Somnoliento sigue su cuerpo imaginario
Yergue sus pesadas vértebras inexistentes
Comienza su día el invisible cráneo inerte
Hermosa mañana al subirse la persiana
Sus no fosas nasales bocanadas de aire inhalan
Hola pájaro, cómo anda hoy de su ala?
Con su aliento abstracto cada pluma se desarma
Se desarma, el guacho se de, se-se deserma
Se desarma, el guacho se de, se-se deserma
Se desarma, guacho, se desarma
Se desarma
El guacho
El guacho
El guacho tiene miedo
El tipo tiene miedo, el tipo está demente
Y quiere que esa gente le devuelva su presente
Se observa, puede ser que no se encuentre
Al parecer su cordura se fue por la tangente
Parcialmente descremando mentes, desmemoriando suertes
Desoladamente se enrolló como un rodete
Sumergido en su cointreau, el mostro se filtró
Tomó y se dotó de lo que a la fiera concernió
Zarpó
Cual mercenario desinteresado
Sin poder moverse, en búsqueda de su costado
Cae desplomado, ha recordado
Que es inútil, hace tiempo ellos se lo han llevado
Victima o victimario de su actuar involuntario
No existe calendario para sus zapatos cavernarios
Piensa en los morbosos, y en los acosos
Sangre venganza y destrozo, en sus ojos rencorosos
Se desarma, el guacho se de, se-se deserma
Se desarma, el guacho se de, se-se deserma
Se desarma, guacho, se desarma
Se desarma
El guacho
El guacho
El guacho tiene miedo
El guacho quiere verse, poder reconocerse
Con el pasar del tiempo parece disolverse
En vacío se convierte su cuerpo que se invierte
Hombre desintegrado, ya nadie puede verle
Tendría que mirarse, a sí mismo conversarse
No hay otra alternativa que auto flagelarse
Artefacto del olvido, es pichón de ningún nido
Sus rasgos son fingidos, está desconstituído
Por favor antes de hablar fíjese en su historial
Cual de sus características debiera ser real
Ya nadie le contesta, no sirve sus protesta
En vano se afeita si la nada manifiesta
Desea tener citas, su no voz a nadie excita
Ni siquiera tiene guita pa'salir con muchachitas
Guarda una estampita, le reza su regreso
Los santos le contestan: En tu ausencia estas preso
El guacho
El guacho
El guacho tiene miedo
Sus sentidos blandos y sus diálogos rotos
Escúchenlo al hablar, ya lo hace como otros
El guacho tiene miedo, no encuentra ni su foto
Todo está perdido, su opinión no tiene voto
La saliva es ácido, que borra en él
Lo que una vez ha sido
Sí, ha existido un hombre con nombre y apellido
Lámentablemente este ha desaparecido
The Outcast
The guy is scared, the guy is frightened
And he wants the state to give him back his side
He was whole before, now fragmented
He looks at himself and repeats: I'm a castaway
Two days ago the guy had his life
Now his identity is gone
Lacking spirit in your manhood to be constituted
Poor guy, he's a victim of his captive soul
On any given day, the lonely outcast wakes up
Drowsy, he follows his imaginary body
Raises his heavy non-existent vertebrae
Begins his day, the invisible inert skull
Beautiful morning as the blinds go up
His non-nostrils inhale breaths of air
Hello bird, how is your wing today?
With his abstract breath, each feather falls apart
Falls apart, the outcast falls apart
Falls apart, the outcast falls apart
Falls apart, outcast, falls apart
Falls apart
The outcast
The outcast
The outcast is scared
The guy is scared, the guy is insane
And he wants those people to give him back his present
He observes, maybe he's not there
Apparently his sanity went off course
Partially shredding minds, unmemorizing fates
Desolately he rolled up like a bun
Immersed in his cointreau, the monster seeped in
Took and endowed himself with what concerned the beast
Set sail
Like a disinterested mercenary
Unable to move, in search of his side
He collapses, he remembered
That it's useless, they took it away long ago
Victim or perpetrator of his involuntary actions
There's no calendar for his cavernous shoes
He thinks of the morbid, and the harassment
Blood, revenge, and destruction, in his resentful eyes
Falls apart, the outcast falls apart
Falls apart, the outcast falls apart
Falls apart, outcast, falls apart
Falls apart
The outcast
The outcast
The outcast is scared
The outcast wants to see himself, to recognize himself
With the passing of time, he seems to dissolve
Into emptiness his body turns inside out
Disintegrated man, no one can see him anymore
He should look at himself, talk to himself
There's no other alternative but self-flagellation
Artifact of oblivion, a fledgling of no nest
His features are feigned, he's deconstructed
Please check his history before speaking
Which of his characteristics should be real
No one answers him, his protests are useless
In vain he shaves if nothing manifests
He wishes to have dates, his voice excites no one
He doesn't even have money to go out with girls
He keeps a holy card, he prays for his return
The saints answer him: In your absence, you are imprisoned
The outcast
The outcast
The outcast is scared
His soft senses and his broken dialogues
Listen to him speak, he does it like others
The outcast is scared, he can't even find his photo
Everything is lost, his opinion has no vote
Saliva is acid, erasing in him
What once was
Yes, there was a man with a name and surname
Unfortunately, he has disappeared