Pedro Navaja
I saw him passing by the old neighborhood
with the good old swagger of a tough guy.
always keeping both hands in his jacket´s pockets
so nobody knows which of them holds his knife
He sports a tilted wide brimmed hat
and a pair of sneakers to take off light if trouble comes.
Dark glasses on: you never know what he's looking at
And a golden teeth shining in his smile.
Some three blocks downstreet, a woman
walks the sideway back and forth, now's the fifth time
She steps into at a hallway to drink her sorrows away:
business is bad; not a single client coming around.
A car rolls slowly down the street.
No badges shown, still you can tell there's cops inside.
Pedro Navaja, his hands always in his jacket,
looks and smiles: his golden tooth again shines
As he walks, he's checking out the whole place:
No one at sight; the whole street seems emptied out.
All of a sudden that woman walks out the doorway
and Pedro Navaja inside his jacket holds a fist tight
checks the whole place out: still nobody at sight
And then he dashes across the street without a sound.
And all the while that woman walks down the other side
grumbling because she made no money just to get by
And, while she's walking, out her old coat she took a gun
about to take it out the way, inside her bag.
A 38 piece, Smith&Wesson, the good old stuff
It goes with her to keep all evil out of her sight.
Pedro Navaja jumped on her holding his knife
his golden tooth flashing over the place. ¡A walk in the park!
He stabs and laughs, sinking his knife: no mercy shown.
All of a sudden a shot comes out, a real round blows
Pedro Navaja, down on the sidewalk, just looked at her
who, gun in hand, and deadly wounded, still could say:
" I was the one who thought for me this is a bad day,
but look at you, Pedro Navaja, you're even worse"
Believe me, guys: after that racket nobody came
nobody stood by; nobody asked; nobody wept
It was a drunkard who found both bodies, nobody else.
He took the gun, the knife and cash, then walked away
As as he stumbled though out of tune along he sang:
these same lines I'm gonna sing you and are the message of the whole song:
You can never tell what'll happen, what happens you´ll never know...Oh God!
You can never tell what'll happen, what happens you´ll never know...Oh, my God!
Pedro Navaja, a thug in life
if you live by the sword, by the sword you´ll die
You can never tell what'll happen, what happens you´ll never know...Oh God!
You were a crook and a fisher, but your fishing went bad
An easy catch did you want, but a shark you would had
"I like to live in Americaaaa..."
You can never tell what'll happen, what happens you´ll never know...Oh my God!
Eight million stories: that's what New York has....
You can never tell what'll happen, what happens you´ll never know...Oh my God!
As my grannie used to say: " He who laugh last laughs longest"
"I like to live in Americaaaa..."
You can never tell what'll happen, what happens you´ll never know...Oh my God!
If fate has something in store for you: there's no way you can change things
If you are meant to be a hammer it will be nails that rain will bring.
You can never tell what'll happen, what happens you´ll never know...Oh my God!
If you live in a though hood, watch your step, buddy... There: if you snooze, you lose.
You can never tell what'll happen, what happens you´ll never know...Oh my God!
Like in a novel by Kafka: the drunk turned around the corner and into the alley.
You can never tell...
" In New York City, two persons were found dead this morning. The bodies of Pedro Barrios and Josefina Wilson. Both with unknown address."