Today, I've got up on the wrong side of the bed
Too much blood on the news
I have just one letter in my mailbox,
sent by my bank, it says no,
My wife has gone away with a lawyer
who pays for her bad habits, who wins your lawsuits
And you, what about you?, whom do you call "old man"?
I tell the sucker behind the mirror,
I am a tough, iron-willed guy,
who goes out to the streets challenging the future
and steps on a dog shit resting on the pavement
and I get to work a bit late, and the guard
sends me to hell with with a kick in the ass
And the choir says: I'm happy, go ahead,
the unemployment queue is not for singers
the unemployment queue is not for singers
So I head for the speech therapist's
who tells me I will never be Frank Sinatra
And I go out, exhausted, to face the night again
And the fucking tow truck has taken away my car
So, to celebrate it, I buy myself another drink
and some friend pukes on my clothes
And it rains, and a taxi that looks like a ship
sweeps me and leaves me sitting on a puddle
And, with great difficulty, I find my way up to the casino
to challenge destiny, embodied by a roulette,
And destiny pays me by leaving me broke,
stinking of wine and with just a few coins.
And, seeing that the planet wants to checkmate me,
I decide to have fun alone in the toilet,
And, while I get relief in such a way,
I pinch myself badly in a ball
with the new zip clasp,
And suddenly, I notice an annoying tickling sensation
from the flies up to the top of my head
And I find out I've got crabs!
So I scratch myself, and I shave myself, and I cut myself,
All I just need now is an abortion!
Losers' choir: this is too much,
that was the last straw!
And when I decide to put an end to this misery
about to hang myself, the rope breaks
And, instead of rejoicing, I'm left wanting
to travel to hell through that window,
and the choir singers say, a true gentleman
doesn't jump into the void from the first floor
And I walk my way up to at Santa Ana square,
just to stand at the bar of another disco
crowded with foreign tourists, drunkards, secretaries,
And a disrespectful annoying woman comes close to me
telling me she is a friend of Panchito Varona's
You look like a nice guy
looking for some naughty fun,
you're going to share a line with me, aren't you?
I wish I had some, darling, I swear it,
I swear on my mother that I have come here penniless.
But cheer up that serious face
You see, this is your lucky night, mate.
And, in the middle of a hysterical nervous breakdown,
I land on the dance floor without a chance to escape
from the smell of the bodies,
of the sweaty, sweaty bodies,
from the heat of the lights,
of the spinning, spinning, lights
from my trembling legs,
from my mouth, shouting: not that,
not that, please, have mercy,
don't you understand that I can't...
can't...
can't...
can't stand rap,
can't stand rap,
can't...
can't...
can't stand rap!