Pongamos que hablo de Madrid [English translation]

There, where the paths cross,

where the sea becomes something unconceivable,

where the fugitive always returns to,

let´s say I talk 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...

Girls no longer want to be princesses

and boys take to pursuing

the sea in a glass of gin...

The birds go visit the shrink,

the stars forget about coming out,

and death crosses by on white ambulances...

The sun is a butane gas heater

and life, an underground train about to leave,

and there´s a needle on the public restroom...

When Death comes looking from me,

carry me down south where I was born,

thre´s no more room for anyone here,

let´s say I talk about Madrid....

about Madrid...

about Madrid.

• Artist:Joaquin Sabina
• Album:Malas Compañías