Juan Carlos Baglietto — Sobre La Cuerda Floja song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Sobre La Cuerda Floja" by Juan Carlos Baglietto.
Lyrics
Siempre al borde de los que viven
Nunca tuvo un hijo, nunca una mujer
Se pasaba el día en la oficina
Llevando papeles, sirviendo café
Su refugio una pension muy vieja
Llena de fantasmas y restos de pan
Su amigo un gato que habló con él
Nunca nadie le ofreció motives
Como para estar, como para hablar
Nunca nadie le ofreció su casa
Para que no pase solo Navidad
El invierno que pegaba fuerte
Lo encontraba a veces en la seccional
«el vino es casi como el amor» decia
De a pedazos, de a pedazos cae quieto
Casi siempre a las seis menos cuarto
Cuando el sol despierta en el andén
Levantaba su cuerpo chiquito
Se afeitaba y contaba hasta cien
Como para recordar que estaba
Tan despierto como vos y yo
Con todas esas ganas de andar
Una noche en un bar de esos tantos
Se bebió hasta el ultimo rincón
Decidió que su piél era carne
Y su alma tán solo un motor
Y se gastó de golpe una copa
Y se hastió del pan y la pensión
Quizás la muerte sea mejor
Se subió al primer taxi
Conla impotencia en quiebra
La œltima noche que estaré conmigo
Será una gran fiesta, dijo
Plena de estrellas
Se levantó temprano
Desayuno en silencio
Miró el reloj que lo observaba tenso
Y en la cuerda floja, volvió a pensarlo
Afiló la navaja
Héroe cobarde al menos
Cerró los ojos, no dudó un instante
Y apretó la carne sangró su pecho
Lyrics translation
Always on the edge of those who live
He never had a son, never a woman.
He spent the day in the office
Carrying papers, serving coffee
Your shelter a very old pension
Full of ghosts and bread crumbs
His friend a cat who talked to him
No one ever offered him motives.
Like to be, like to talk
No one ever offered her a house.
So it doesn't just happen Christmas
The winter that hit hard
I found him sometimes in the section
"wine is almost like love," he said
In pieces, in pieces it falls still
Almost always at six minus four
When the sun wakes up on the platform
He was lifting his little body
He shaved and counted a hundred
As if to remember that I was
As awake as you and I
With all the urge to walk
One night at a bar like that
He drank himself to the last corner
He decided that his skin was meat
And his soul is only a motor
And he suddenly spent a drink
And he was weary of the bread and the pension
Maybe death is better
He got in the first cab.
With helplessness in bankruptcy
The last night I'll be with me
It will be a great party, he said
Full of stars
He got up early
Breakfast in silence
He looked at the clock that watched him tense
And on the tightrope, he thought it again
Sharpened the knife
Coward hero at least
He closed his eyes, did not hesitate a moment
And squeezed the flesh bled his chest