Tir Al Ninot
On reparteixen el destí abans de néixer?
Quin és l'origen? A qui les gràcies?
Qui és l'arquitecte i el rei del castell?
L'han mort a disgustos? Morirà de vell?
Pell contra pell, el cor sap com fer
Presoner no oblida la cara del carceller
Sincer amb la vida, de boca explosiva
Sentint-se estranger al desert de la mentira
Viu una nostàlgia del passat que no ha superat
Una crisi de relat, un punyal clavat
Un regust amarg, un dolor ingrat
Tristesa no reparada, un rencor innat
A ell no l'enxufaven a l'equip de la ciutat
A ella la insultaven per ser pobra i malparlada
Males companyies per a pares malpensats
La xusma selecta, d'este carnaval
I el món veu baralles on ells soles ballen
I no poden parar; i no volen parar
Fills del caos i la locura
Filles de les males herbes
Trens que van descarrilar
Ara llancen pedres contra eixe ninot del vostre altar
No recordava els anys d'agitació on el pamflet li funcionava
I ara no fa pamflet, parla d'amor: More drama
Ara ha canviat de plans, plans d'encefalograma
La fama es paga i qui paga mana
No! Que tenen més jaquetes que problemes, que ho sé jo
Que venen talladets tots pel mateix patró
Alçaven la peülla, rajaven de qui no
Tragava amb les doctrines oficials
Carrera meteòrica, èxits assegurats
Fracassos no es contemplen, mercat no regulat
Col·legi religiós, censura parental
Un retoret de dogma i cantinela liberal
Ací el col·legi públic, ací els que anaven mal
Els "jebis" dels 80, els punkis d'aquell bar
Els redskins del poble, els rapers d'aquell parc
L'orgull de la derrota que arrastrem fins al final
I pels seus carrers es passegen
I tenen un bon mercat, avingudes, llums i parcs
I què guapes van per a festes, i què net el cotxe car
I com saben ells estar
I als barris obrers remoregen
Shoot The Doll
Is destiny distributed before birth?
What is the origin? To whom the thanks?
Who is the architect and king of the castle?
Did they die of disgust? Will they die of old age?
Skin against skin, the heart knows how to do
A prisoner never forgets the face of the jailer
Sincere with life, with an explosive mouth
Feeling like a stranger in the desert of lies
Living a nostalgia of the past not overcome
A crisis of narrative, a dagger stuck
A bitter taste, an ungrateful pain
Unrepaired sadness, an innate grudge
He wasn't plugged into the city team
She was insulted for being poor and foul-mouthed
Bad company for suspicious parents
The select rabble, of this carnival
And the world sees fights where they dance alone
And they can't stop; and they don't want to stop
Children of chaos and madness
Daughters of the bad weeds
Trains that derailed
Now they throw stones at that doll on your altar
He didn't remember the years of agitation when the pamphlet worked for him
And now he doesn't make pamphlets, he talks about love: More drama
Now he has changed plans, plans of encephalogram
Fame is paid and who pays rules
No! They have more jackets than problems, I know
They all come cut from the same pattern
They raised the middle finger, mocked those who didn't
Swallowed the official doctrines
Meteoritic career, guaranteed successes
Failures are not considered, unregulated market
Religious school, parental censorship
A pinch of dogma and liberal chant
Here the public school, here those who were doing badly
The 'jebis' of the 80s, the punks from that bar
The redskins of the town, the rappers from that park
The pride of defeat that we drag until the end
And they walk through their streets
And they have a good market, avenues, lights, and parks
And how pretty they go to parties, and how clean the car is
And how well they know how to be
And in the working-class neighborhoods they stir