Cruz diablo
Zippo, que estaba hecho migas,
se mandó en una picada
chistando a su mala sombra
sin copiloto ni nada.
Zippo va camino del infierno
cagando leches:
no supo repartir sus fichas
y su cielo ennegrece.
Nunca fue un listo de pesos,
siempre un listo de centavos.
Su boca arde en maldiciones
que se tragan mal.
Se va gritando: Cruz Diablo!
por pura cortesía.
El Himno de Tangópolis le dice
(Como al oído...)
que sus aventuras pegan mal
y anuncian poco.
El tipo maduró pronto
y se pudrió bien temprano,
un barro que asfixia esa anguila
es la salvajada.
Si el perro es manso
come la bazofia y no dice nada;
le cuentan las costillas con un palo,
a carcajadas.
Demasiados los moretones,
muy pocos encantamientos.
Son tantos los cocineros
que joden la sopa.
Su rocanrol sangra oídos,
ya que Dios le truchó el boleto.
Zippo, una risa de mil dientes
cargados de azufre.
Devil's Cross
Zippo, which was in crumbs,
he was sent on a dive
hissing at his bad luck
without a co-pilot or anything.
Zippo is on his way to hell
dashing off:
he didn't know how to distribute his chips
and his sky darkens.
He was never a smart man of pesos,
always a smart man of cents.
His mouth burns with curses
that are swallowed badly.
He goes shouting: Devil's Cross!
out of pure courtesy.
The Anthem of Tangopolis tells him
(Like in his ear...)
that his adventures stick badly
and announce little.
The guy matured early
and rotted very soon,
a mud that suffocates that eel
is the savagery.
If the dog is tame
he eats the garbage and says nothing;
they count his ribs with a stick,
laughing out loud.
Too many bruises,
very few enchantments.
There are so many cooks
that spoil the soup.
His rock and roll bleeds ears,
since God tricked him with the ticket.
Zippo, a laugh of a thousand teeth
loaded with sulfur.