Christopher Lambert - Dano

True motherfuckers know

This be the realest shit I ever wrote, ah

All my real motherfuckers know

Yeah

Intento hacer de estos instantes

Algo inmortal como Christopher Lambert

¿Hombres pequeños o niños gigantes?

¿Somos humanos?

Yo vi los implantes, ah

Minutos antes de volar por los aires

Mis trucos nacen en portales y parques

De bloques sin farolas donde no quiere ir Naider

La esperanza no sube como un litro de Laiker

El cable que sujete esas Nike Air, ah

Me recuerdan a lo efímero, la huella que en mí dejó

La letra de Cicerón, secretos ocultos

No sé si decírtelo

¿Por qué te crees que el tipo siempre quiso ser director?

La fe no se repone como baldas del Hipercor

Hacemos mal uso, culpamos al inventor

Ignorar es fácil, así que casi mejor

Olvidamos los sueños de papel y Plastidecor

Soy sincero, pero me miento

Ceniceros odian el viento

Hace frío en esta calle, por aquí no viene nadie

El mechero está muriendo

No quedan niños en los juegos

¿De qué sirve este cigarro, si no tengo fuego?

Tapo mis miedos con papeles finos como actores buenos

Ah, adormilando los males que adolecemos

Way-you

Way-you

Way-you-you-you

Way-you-you-you

Way-you

Way-you

Way-you-you-you

Way-you-you-you

Way-you

Way-you

Way-you-you-you

Way-you-you-you

Way-you

Way-you

Way-you-you-you

Way-yo-co-yo-you

Hey…

I love you more each day, yes, I do, yes

I love you more each day, yes, I do, yes

True motherfuckers know

This be the realest shit I ever wrote, ah

All my real motherfuckers know

yeah

I try to make these moments

Something Immortal as Christopher Lambert

Little men or giant boys?

We are humans?

I saw the implants, ah

Minutes before flying through the air

My tricks are born in portals and parks

Of blocks without streetlights where Naider does not want to go

Hope doesn't go up like a liter of Laiker

The cable that holds those Nike Air, ah

They remind me of the ephemeral, the mark that he left on me

Cicero's handwriting, hidden secrets

I don't know whether to tell you

Why do you think the guy always wanted to be a director?

Faith is not replaced like shelves in the Hipercor

We misuse, we blame the inventor

Ignoring is easy, so almost better

We forget the dreams of paper and Plastidecor

I am sincere, but I lie to myself

Ashtrays hate the wind

It's cold on this street, no one comes here

the lighter is dying

There are no children left in the games

What good is this cigar if I don't have a fire?

I cover my fears with fine papers like good actors

Ah, sleeping the evils that we suffer

way-you

way-you

Way-you-you-you

Way-you-you-you

way-you

way-you

Way-you-you-you

Way-you-you-you

way-you

way-you

Way-you-you-you

Way-you-you-you

way-you

way-you

Way-you-you-you

Way-yo-co-yo-you

Hey…

I love you more each day, yes, I do, yes

I love you more each day, yes, I do, yes