Pobre diablo [English translation]

You've got a thousand stories to tell,

but no one wants to hear them anymore.

You leave several traces behind you,

traces that have led you here.

An unholy village picked you up,

like a home, give you its alleyway

and your glance never turned back

when some voice wanted to hurt your heart.

Luck is close to you, once more

and again it got away from you.

A good day during the sunset,

to your cat you said godbye.

People from the village discussed

''And what happened to the poor devil? Did he die?''

But this time he came unannounced.

The devil in a glass jar.

Your bottle has a nice color,

the devil lives inside of it.

You only take another sip

and your luck changes of color. Who asks for more?

And everytime, more smell of alcohol.

The devil has enter your heart.