1. |
||||
|
the pretty girl,
she's going to die,
she's getting closed to the moment,
i do believe she's going to die.
i saw her staring at the mirror,
eye on a sweat pore,
clearly clueless.
her time's running out
and blood's getting faster
and overall i do know
she's going to die.
look at the pretty girl,
happily playing, shouting
calling up on the author,
as if she really could share that
beautiful shit.
the pretty girl,
she's going to die,
her smile shows she don't care,
of course she knows
i've seen and talked to the threads.
she got what she wanted,
she's getting ready for
the birra & party,
and because of the birthday
party,
she's been gratefully sinning
all these times.
so let her get ready.
let her get ready.
|
||||
2. |
científicos del desagüe
05:10
|
|||
3. |
un choto
05:31
|
|||
|
hubo un tiempo en que creí en utopías,
en voluntades,
en salvadores,
en cierta justicia poética,
algo así como si sos un choto, algo va a venir por vos algún día.
y ahí estaba con mi sonrisa naïve que conocía felicidades
y desconocía lo aspero de esta luminosa ciudad muerta,
de la que morfo sus sobras.
no sé cuánto vas a aguantar, dijo
hago esto para ver cuánto vas a aguantar.
no sé,
o la semilla tiene que germinar.
no sé,
no hay porqué ponerse a esperar.
no sé,
quiero tiempo, esos ojos,
mucha cinta para cuando no pueda acordarme.
no sé,
no me imites,
de qué voy a servir.
|
||||
4. |
estallado
02:40
|
|||
|
ahí arriba quieren placer,
y yo, mal.
soy un necio que patina
en la concha de la altura.
tentada, la sabrosura,
la exquisitez al ciento trepar,
sólo héroes
me sintieron llorar
cuando caí de la cuna.
y lo contuve, sintiéndome mal.
deambulé maldiciendo el hogar.
hipotéticas secuencias
nacidas detrás de los ojos,
devuelven una entumecida prisión
de aquel cuarto rojo.
y ya castrado de cualquier intención
te invoco,
¿qué habrías hecho en mi situación?
matá ídolos.
y lo importante de los errores
es lo que aprendas,
ella dijo.
y lo controlé sintiéndome mal.
deambulé, no deseaba un hogar.
but it's taking much longer,
it's taking much longer.
raped by delicious
germs,
rising as the morning
sun.
i'm an animal haunting
and waiting
for his bloody and
tasteful
lunch to come.
|
||||
5. |
my head, she explodes
04:44
|
|||
|
i don't expect your eyes to believe
how i see things,
but, you know,
there's no much going on
in here.
still fuckin freezing outside and
my gears,
my tongue,
my thoughts, they
can barely move,
but it's ok.
i could get bored as fast
as i get excited and bored
again,
you can credit
cronenberg,
lane and cave
for making me cum
for making me
cum-cum
during the car smash.
the icecube daces alone
in the glass and
now
i really wanna run into someone
ready for magicians.
you won't hear me ready,
i won't dry your palms,
nor wait for boiling waters
to deliver the flood.
you won't hear me ready,
i won't dry your palms,
should use this glass
of water to deliver
the flood.
i don't expect your mind to get clear,
neither pitch your soul to my speed,
all i'm asking for
keep walking through ears.
i already got a gun.
i don't expect your mind to get clear,
neither pitch your soul to my speed,
all i'm asking for
keep walking through ears.
i already got a gun in my head and
my head,
she explodes.
|
||||
Da Capo Buenos Aires, Argentina
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