There where the roads cross,
where the sea can’t be conceived,
where returns always the fugitive,
Let's put that I speak about Madrid.
Where the desire travels by elevators
a hole is left for me,
that I leave my life in your corners…
Let's put that I speak about Madrid.
Girls no longer want to be princesses
and boys try to chase the sea
in a glass of gin …
Let's put that I speak about Madrid.
Birds visit the psychiatrist,
the stars they forget to go out
death happens in white ambulances…
Let's put that I speak about Madrid.
The sun is a butane stove,
life’s a metro on the verge of leaving,
there’s a syringe in the sink…
Let's put that I speak about Madrid.
When Death comes to visit me
take me to the South where I was born.
Here there’s no room for anyone.
Let's put that I speak about Madrid.