Mercado Negro [English translation]

The darkness chills,

Pointed heels cut the corners

Underground poker and massage parlours

They are dozing with the voices

Of shadows flowing under the doorways,

They can sell you a journey to the sun.

They go slowly and make the street tremble,

With their flashing blue sirens,

Tinted windows behind the windscreen.

Those who have lost sleep come,

And filter through the streets of the great city,

Come to the black market,

The alarms go off in the early hours.

The cries of children are like the yowling

Of cats with their hair on end, in the cornices,

They get tangled in the strings and vibrate the rosewood.

The ultraviolet light between mirrors,

It gives the smoke permission to escape

And it goes through the hinges on the doors.

Those who have lost sleep come,

And filter through the streets of the great city,

Come to the black market,

The alarms go off in the early hours.

The awake come but they're asleep,

They come to the depths, the darkness depths,

The believes come, the disbelievers come,

All of them united by the same heart.

Those who have lost sleep come,

And filter through the streets of the great city,

Come to the black market,

The alarms go off in the early hours.