You should see her while she's getting dressed
to go out at night.
And then turning tricks, leaning against a lamppost.
No, if you don't live in Madrid, you’ll never understand it.
No, if you don't live in Madrid, you’ll never understand it.
No, you won't, you won't.
She carries in her purse her rouge and a ron bottle.
And her lover's name tattoed on her arm.
No, if you don't live in Madrid, you’ll never understand it.
No, if you don't live in Madrid, you’ll never understand it.
No, you won't, you won't.
You, Madrid, I hate you, but what can I do?
I can't leave you and being without my wife.
You should feel the caresses of Madrid on your skin,
and write with your own blood "Madrid, you're my wife".
The winter is coming.
You entered my heart.
I'm still here, licking the wounds
that your love has left me.
No, if you don't live in Madrid, you’ll never understand it.
No, if you don't live in Madrid, you’ll never understand it.
No, you won't, you won't.