Destierro
Esa salida, ese final,
Es la mentira que hace dudar,
Es el destierro, el propio infierno,
De quien debiera dedicarse a jugar.
Tal vez un día quiera volver,
Pero esta ciego, no puede ver,
Que cruzó el cerco, ya no es su cuerpo
Y su cabeza no entiende.
Que ya no hay tinta, que no hay papel,
Gritos, caricias, que le hagan ver,
Que mamá esta preocupada.
¿donde esta tu buen corazón?
¿donde esta tu sueño campeón?
¿quién te conviertió en un sicario?
Ni la gente del barrio te conoce la voz.
Sos la salida, sos el final,
Sos la mentira que hace dudar,
Sos el destierro, el propio infierno,
Y su cabeza no entiende.
Que ya no hay tinta, que no hay papel,
Gritos, caricias, que le hagan ver,
Que mamá esta preocupada,
Mamá esta preocupada,
Que mamá esta preocupada por él.
Exile
That way out, that ending,
It's the lie that makes you doubt,
It's the exile, the very own hell,
Of someone who should dedicate themselves to play.
Maybe one day he'll want to come back,
But he's blind, he can't see,
That he crossed the line, it's no longer his body
And his mind doesn't understand.
That there's no more ink, no paper,
Shouts, caresses, to make him see,
That mom is worried.
Where is your good heart?
Where is your champion dream?
Who turned you into a hitman?
Not even the people from the neighborhood know your voice.
You are the way out, you are the ending,
You are the lie that makes you doubt,
You are the exile, the very own hell,
And his mind doesn't understand.
That there's no more ink, no paper,
Shouts, caresses, to make him see,
That mom is worried,
Mom is worried,
That mom is worried about him.