Pedro Y Pablo — Che, Ciruja song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Che, Ciruja" by Pedro Y Pablo.
Lyrics
Sin despertar al sol que esta de espaldas
Y duerme siempre con un rayo abierto
Viene el ciruja lento como un muerto
Por la basura buscando esmeraldas
Y yo le grito
Che ciruja! Apurate
Mira que va a amanecer
Y un gallo tuerto, ronco y alcahuete
Va a desarrollar de pronto ese paquete
De silencio y suciedad
Entre la luna lágrima de mármol
Y el viejo elenco de astros parpadeantes
Mete la mano en tachos repugnantes
Para sacar estrellas bajo un árbol
Y yo le grito
Che ciruja! Te regalo el vaciadero de mi yo
Investigame a fondo las entrañas
Y el corazón que cría telarañas
Arrancame tu dolor
Che ciruja heredero del mendrugo final
Redimiendo porquerías que tiró la ciudad
Coleccionista de los malos aires
Que Buenos Aires tira en un rellano
Tu contrabando de última mano
Es mi vergüenza y tu satisfacción
Por eso canto
Che ciruja perdóname
Si no te sirve mi voz
A lo mejor mañana en la basura
Como esas cosas que nunca perduran
Encontrarás esta canción
Che ciruja revolveme
La garganta y la piel
Lyrics translation
Without waking up to the sun on its back
And always sleeps with an open Ray
The Plum comes slow as a dead man
Through the trash looking for emeralds
And I yell at him
What a ciruja! Cleared
Look it's going to Dawn
And a grouchy, hoarse cock
You're going to develop that package all of a sudden
Of silence and filth
Between the marble tear Moon
And the old cast of twinkling stars
Put your hand in disgusting pots
To draw stars under a tree
And I yell at him
What a ciruja! I give you the emptiness of my self
Investigate my insides thoroughly
And the heart that breeds cobwebs
Rip out your pain
That ciruja heir of the final mendrugo
Redeeming the crap the city threw away
Collector of bad air
That Buenos Aires pulls on a landing
Your last-hand contraband
It's my shame and your satisfaction
That's why I sing
Che ciruja forgive me
If my voice doesn't help you
Maybe tomorrow in the trash
Like those things that never last
You'll find this song
That ciruja revolveme
Throat and skin