Where friends and strangers are
That they were waiting under my lips
Those who waited for their cries, gathered
Going through my only throat as a grievance.
Those who now say that I am no longer myself
And I make cushions of a song
Those who have the right to express their opinion
But they do not know what direction to take.
Those who waited sitting at home
for two guitars that tremble.
He who waits for my poetry
like a spoon full of my name
when is it going to start
to wait for the right that I have to live as a man.
Well, if my song is blue, come treason
And if it's stone, there's also betrayal
Old and young believe that a singer
He is a clown with devil and with God
But singing is difficult because you have to love
The truth much more than the song itself.
Who is going to play face,
play your hands,
play the smile and the guitar?
What gives the right to accept or right to deny
other than my own words?
Those pepillos, what do they want from me?
And those old men, what do you expect from me?
Whoever defends him from himself
Start by defending yourself from me.
And whoever does not want to listen gets up
and leave or just cover my mouth.
I just feel a smile and I feel sad
and I feel like a piece of destiny.
I just feel goodbye and goodbye
and they must understand that everything is a product of the road.
Because the truth has never existed,
everything depends on the time to talk.
And when this song ends, everyone thinks
what your real earns, be it good or bad,
because if not for what is it that sings
if not to stir everything when singing.
Only among all we can make this a better place :)