The Beat
Que ganas de volver
que ganas de besar
que ganas de salir corriendo de este lugar...
Que ganas de reir
que ganas de llorar
que ganas de encontrarte a la salida y entrada
Madrugar tirados en el cielo
surcándonos el suelo como si fuera el mar
Que ganas con tenerme
que ganas con dejarme
que ganas con morder la luna por la mitad
que ganas de ganar,
ganándome tu vida
ganándome el respiro noche a noche dÃÂa a dÃÂa
que ganas con llorar...
Que ganas de ayunar
comiendo de tu fuego
que ganas
The Divorce
She had just busted out of the whorehouse
And was looking for a drink to celebrate the divorce
She told 'em she was going out for smokes -- and never looked back
The sky was bloodshot as she stumbled into the bar
Sullen eyes lit up like cigarettes
Cockroaches were gasping for breath
She selects her poison, brings it to her lips
A song like drunken sailors from a sunken ship
She thinks, power comes to them that enjoy the thrill of fear
A sign says: If you're looking for answers, you won't find them here
Everyone is leaving, all the widows grieving
Hear the siren laughing, and the truck brakes groaning
While the subway's screaming, all the junkies dreaming
Now the shadow's falling, is that your lover calling?
She grinds out cigarette in a souvenir ashtray
Reaches for the bottle but ther's nothing left
Says: Buy me a drink and I'll tell you a story
But the bitch at the bar wouldn't sell you a smile
She closes her eyes and thinks of a wish she once had
A dwindling spark of memory
She wants to wipe it clean -- scrape away the debris
Can I get you something? - it's a man in the periphery
The car keys in his hand
She searches her pockets for a match or a reason
He slams the money on the bar
They go out to his car
When you put your hand in your pocket
Looking for a match or something to say
Life seems like a rerun
Everything coming up cliches
Suicide comes on like a friend
Seems like the bad times never end
Close your eyes and think of home
Movements are slow and tragic
Solar flares from a dying sun
Science without the magic
Children shouldn't play with guns
Flashes of pain are fading fast
Echoes from each subsonic blast
close your eyes and think of home....