FEUILLETON LOOK

There’s no use crying over what happened

The vigour from the past that time took away

It was left out there without a pot to piss in

for the nights out, the daybreak and the drinking spree

So many mistakes, so many love marks

Painful and suffering marks

Marks of life that rouge insists on hiding

I follow my path in solitude

Obstinate routine towards the bars full of affliction

I face my windmills without the squire

I want a drink buddy, maybe a partner

a body as a shelter, a truly one

To shelter me from the storms that torment me

In this world's crazy stage

To be able to hear an obstinate tango from Gardel

Where the bandoleon covers with its passionate symphony

My silent and lonely sobbing

I ask for a dose of support and the waiter tells me it's been over for ages

Even a fake bitter kiss makes me believe I can love

But come on!

I follow the fate of a woman alone in this affectionless life

Lost in life like a stray dog

Lost in her own abandonment

Consuming dreams and desires

Swallowing men, alcohol and cigarettes

Failed and despicable men with their old kisses

Even so I say yes to the needy proposals

I have no reason to say no

I own myself, I’m sassy, I’m life, almost bandit

I have no family to hug on Sundays

I gently accept copulation

With the same delicacy that you bake a wedding cake

Even wearing false values

I know we’re strange, different, dark humans

Indecent accomplices in our faithless and half-hearted smile

The alcohol slowly warms me up

Slowly sets me on fire

I surrender to your warmth to forget the pain

I immerse myself in the false sense of love, that's what I have left, that's what I have

My pains are so present they never become past

Marks of life with no celibate

Addicted to the lecherous and hedonistic present

I carry glorious marks of fierce heat fight

I’m not knocked out, I’m not beaten

I’m smart and shrewd

I can fake pleasure, I can be theatrical

Divide dust and sins equally

Not necessarily in that order

Marginal pleasure has a great flavor, is pleasant

The taste of the interdict gets us high in unimaginable ways

It’s such a drag, underworld, falsehood

That seems to be true love

And when the dawn breaks into the room, naughty and curious

And it’s frightened by the unpalatable taste of the environment

My body is the invaded, conquered and colonized Troy

Lies fatigued under the smoke of a fire that consumed her violently

The curtains of life’s stage are opened

The scenery is cruel and terrifying

On the battlefield we are wounded warriors

Where regret predominates in a bed without flavor

The air is filled by the taste of defeat and pain

In hidden tears I put out my cigarette

Burning in the ashes your smells

The other women, your sweat, your drink

The drunken Colombian route of a poor pierrot of corroded life

I’m not immortal, I may be fragile, but I’m fatal

I’m from the pub, I’m the diva of the desperate, I’m from the street

The leftovers, the solidary glasses and the selfish beings

I’m the fake smile that always says yes

But my friend I recommend you

Never believe my feuilleton look.