Comunismo
he llegado a la casa y he tenido la impresión
de que tardo un siglo en llegar,
de que tardo un año en subir,
de que tardo una hora en entrar
y un segundo en verte y reir.
Siempre tengo esa prisa no sé
si será que te quiero contar
como libro el pellejo del día
absorviendole el agua a la sal.
creo que el colmo de la vida
es contar lo que nos pasa,
Hacer la fábula florida de nuestra tragedia.
unos no arriesgan a los hombre para ir a la luna
y se asesinan palestinos por tandas de miles,
yo ya no se que decir es...
el colmo de la vida
es contar lo que nos pasa,
mientras los viejos errores
reclaman silencio.
y yo soy sólo un hombre que pasa
un hombre que vende su cuello en las calles
cual todos aquí.
todos los años me pongo ropa limpia
y salgo a ti.
como si tu me lavaras las mentiras
y salgo a ti.
como si tu me lavaras la sangre
y salgo a ti
todos los años yo llego a mi casa
y salgo a ti
como si tu fueras el comunismo
y salgo a ti...
como si tu fueras el comunismo
y salgo a ti...
Communism
I arrived home and had the impression
That it took a century to get here,
Took a year to climb up,
Took an hour to walk in
And a second to see you and laugh.
I always have this rush, I don't know
If it's because I want to tell you
How the day's skin is like a book
Absorbing water from the salt.
I think the height of life
Is to tell what happens to us,
To make a flowery fable of our tragedy.
Some don't risk men to go to the moon
And Palestinians are murdered in batches of thousands,
I don't know what to say anymore...
The height of life
Is to tell what happens to us,
While old mistakes
Demand silence.
And I'm just a man passing by
A man selling his neck on the streets
Like everyone here.
Every year I put on clean clothes
And go to you.
As if you wash away my lies
And go to you.
As if you wash away my blood
And go to you.
Every year I arrive home
And go to you.
As if you were communism
And go to you...
As if you were communism
And go to you...