There, where all roads cross,
where the sea is something inconceivable,
where the runaway always returns to,
let’s say I’m talking about Madrid.
Where desire travels in elevators
there’s still a hole left for me.
Me, that I leave my life bit to bit on its corners,
let’s say I’m talking about Madrid.
Girls no longer want to be princesses
and boys take to pursuing
the sea in a glass of gin,
let’s say I’m talking about Madrid.
The birds go visit the shrink,
the stars forget to come out,
death passes by inside white ambulances,
let’s say I’m talking about Madrid.
The sun is a butane gas heater
life is an underground train about to leave,
there’s a needle in the toilet,
let’s say I’m talking about Madrid.
When Death comes visit me,
carry me down south where I was born,
there’s no more room for anyone here,
let’s say I’m talking about Madrid.
about Madrid...
about Madrid.