Vagos Permanentes — Elogio a la Locura song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Elogio a la Locura" by Vagos Permanentes.
Lyrics
Cuentan de el que es un borracho, poeta ya senil
Proxeneta de unas tristes musas que huyeron ya de aquí
Un tarao, zumbao, paranoico; conflicto social
Mente vilmente enajenada, que hay que controlar
Se levanta con el alba, y desnudo al caminar
sueña con mostrar un mundo, que no puede controlar
Un semáforo, una sucia calle; dos cartones son su humilde hogar
En su rostro muestra el callejero, forjado a base de tanto errar
Hoy, como ayer, cincelar la locura de existir
y elogiar sin fe su aventura de morir
Vertical, y sin quien, sin hueco en la sien
Taladrao, como tú… siempre que le ves venir
Al otro lado del reflejo de un cristal tintao
atentando con su sucio trapo tu mundo de atontaos
Porque es él, ¡no tú!, quien está fuera del redil hostil
del cuerdo encefalograma plano yermo y estéril
Y se vence en el ocaso del blanco de un hospital
con el alma destilada por un largo deambular
Un contrato con su propio diablo que le vino un día engañar
creyendo que era el enfermo en una enferma sociedad
Hoy, como ayer, cincelar la locura de existir
y elogiar sin fe su aventura de morir
Vertical, y sin quien, sin hueco en la sien
Taladrao, como tú… siempre que le ves venir
Lyrics translation
They tell of him who is a drunkard, already senile poet
Pimp of some sad muses who have already fled here
A tarao, zumbao, paranoid; social conflict
Mind vilely alienated, you have to control
He gets up at dawn, and naked as he walks
he dreams of showing a world he can't control
A traffic light, a dirty street; two cartons are his humble home
On his face shows the street, forged on the basis of so much err
Today, as yesterday, chisel the madness of existing
and praise without faith their adventure to die
Vertical, and without whom, without a hole in the temple
Drill, like you ... whenever you see him coming
On the other side of the reflection of a tintao glass
attempting with his dirty rag your world of stupefies
Because it's him, not you! who is outside the hostile fold
of the barren, sterile flat brain cord
And it is defeated in the sunset of the target of a hospital
with the soul distilled by a long wandering
A contract with his own devil that came to him one day cheat
believing that he was the sick in a sick society
Today, as yesterday, chisel the madness of existing
and praise without faith their adventure to die
Vertical, and without whom, without a hole in the temple
Drill, like you ... whenever you see him coming