El 15 - El Barrio

Ya no tendre que rendir cuentas

alla en el cielo, aqui en la tierra.

Y tu eres como el caballo de Atila

por donde pasa nunca crece la hierba.

Permitalo Dios nunca mas tenga que enamorarme

permitalo Dios que este mundo no escuche lo que dices

que el vino sea mas vino y termine por emborracharme

que la niña bonita nunca mas se disfrace de 15.

Permitalo Dios que te canten la nana de insomnio

que el sol que te alumbre sea en tu vida peor que un eclipse

que te toque un viaje donde vive y reside el demonio

pero que la niña bonita nunca mas se disfrace de 15.

Permitalo Dios que te colmen de besos y abrazos

y aquel que te colme sea el apostol Judas Iscariote

que sea la ignorancia la virtud que te lleve al fracaso

para que asi me compares como a un tonto sutil monigote.

Permitalo Dios que te ganen todas tus batallas

que sea persistente la manera de como te quise

que se hagan latentes los recuerdos alla donde vaya

pero que la niña bonita nunca mas se disfrace de 15.

Que no, que no, no preguntes a nadie lo que es el amor

corre mirate al espejo y dime si no eres la desilusion…

Ya no, ya no tendre…

Ya no tendre que rendir cuentas

alla en el cielo, aqui en la tierra

y tu eres como el caballo de Atila

por donde pasa nunca crece la hierba.

I no longer have to account

there in heaven, here on earth.

And you are like Attila's horse

where it passes the grass never grows.

God allow it I never have to fall in love again

God grant that this world does not listen to what you say

that the wine is more wine and ends up getting drunk

That the pretty girl never dresses up as 15 again.

God grant that they sing you the lullaby of insomnia

May the sun that shines on you be worse than an eclipse in your life

that you get a trip where the devil lives and resides

but may the pretty girl never dress up as 15 again.

God allow it to fill you with kisses and hugs

and the one who fills you is the apostle Judas Iscariot

let ignorance be the virtue that leads you to failure

So that you can compare me like a subtle fool stick figure.

God grant that you win all your battles

that the way in which I loved you be persistent

that memories become latent wherever you go

but may the pretty girl never dress up as 15 again.

No, no, don't ask anyone what love is

run look in the mirror and tell me if you are not the disappointment...

Not anymore, I won't have anymore...

I no longer have to account

there in heaven, here on earth

and you are like Attila's horse

where it passes the grass never grows.