Marchitarse Lyrics – Tenemos Explosivos
Singer: Tenemos Explosivos
Title: Marchitarse
Me compré un jarrón para dejar flores, cosa que se marchitan y me recuerden el paso Del tiempo
Quiero apreciar en su fragilidad la muerte de algo bello
Mi abuelo trabajó en una fábrica de vidrio y siempre me lo imaginé haciendo figuras
Una mamá pato con sus patitos. Una vaca comiendo pasto
Un buey tirando de una carreta
Una casa de campo hecha de vidrio, con gente que pasa por afuera y saluda al Campesino de vidrio, que mueve sus Manitos transparentes
Un abuelo de vidrio en un bar de vidrio, jugando a las cartas, perdiendo terrenos Pagando prostitutas
Un abuelo de vidrio que a final de mes está aburrido porque se le acabó la plata y
No puede seguir tomando, así que viola a su mujer y le pega una enfermedad
Pero no le importa
Porque mi abuela de vidrio no es una persona. Es un objeto
Como el campo y las vacas y los cerros de vidrio
Recuerdos frágiles, que dependen de ser tratados con cariño
Y ahí nos damos cuenta de que somos delicados
Le tenemos miedo a los golpes. Al paso del tiempo. Las flores muriendo en mi mesa de Centro
Las personas que terminan por quebrarse
Mi abuela, agarrando a su hija, escapando a la ciudad
Vivir la pobreza. El hambre
La escopeta que se compró para espantar a los ladrones que trataban de secuestrarlas Porque dos mujeres solas no
Son personas. Son objetos para usar, para romper
Los disparos en la noche
La sangre
Los perros aullando
El silencio de los vecinos
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Marchitarse – English Translation
I bought a vase to leave flowers, which wilt and remind me of the passage of time
I want to appreciate in his fragility the death of something beautiful
My grandfather worked in a glass factory and I always imagined making figures
A mother duck with her ducklings. A cow eating grass
An ox pulling a cart
A country house made of glass, with people who go outside and greet the glass farmer, who moves their transparent handles
A glass grandfather in a glass bar, playing cards, losing land paying prostitutes
A glass grandfather who is bored at the end of the month because his money was over and
You can’t keep taking, so it violates your wife and hits her a disease
But it doesn’t care
Because my glass grandmother is not a person. Its an object
Like the field and cows and glass hills
Fragile memories, which depend on being treated with love
And there we realize that we are delicate
We are afraid of blows. As time passed. The flowers dying at my center table
People who end up broken
My grandmother, grabbing her daughter, escaping the city
Live poverty. Hunger
The shotgun that was bought to scare thieves trying to kidnap them because two women alone
They are persons. They are objects to use, to break
The shots at night
The blood
The dogs howling
The silence of the neighbors
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Lyrics Tenemos Explosivos – Marchitarse
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