Hotel Madrid - Indras

Hotel Madrid

Dicen que el tiempo pasa y no lo cura todo,

que yo he cambiado y que mi vida es de otro modo,

que mis rarezas, justifican la certeza,

de ver que todo tiene un final…

Que aquella casa me ha dejado mil secuelas,

que aquellas chicas me cuidaron sin problemas,

el lado malo es que perdí mi autobús

cuando pude ver lo bueno del sur…

Y quiero volver, a ver si aún están,

psiquiatras de noche que no buscan diván…

Antorchas sin luz, que no saben guiar

los pasos de almas que no saben amar…

Hotel Madrid, déjame entrar,

quiero subir, una vez más…

Hotel Madrid, que te has plantado en mi cabeza…

Hotel Madrid, si tu no estás,

puedo admitir que algo va mal.

Hotel Madrid, dame las llaves de tu puerta…

Hotel Madrid…

Más de tres meses enganchado a aquella vida,

dormía poco y escribía en la cocina.

Ella pasaba para supervisar

si yo seguía colgado de su forma de andar…

Me despertaba entre cineastas y modistas,

me emborrachaba de «la chica que recicla».

Bábados locos para justificar,

domingos en la sala de estar…

Y quiero volver, mirar hacia atrás,

quitarme los vicios que no pude dejar,

contar hasta mil, para recordar

las noches que nunca quise recuperar…

Hotel Madrid, déjame entrar,

quiero subir, una vez más…

Hotel Madrid, que te has plantado en mi cabeza…

Hotel Madrid, si tu no estás,

puedo admitir que algo va mal.

Hotel Madrid, dame las llaves de tu puerta…

Hotel Madrid…

Al menos quedan recuerdos

qos mantienen en pie…

Al menos buenos momentos

que nos permiten saber, que fue bien…

Hotel Madrid

They say that time passes and does not heal everything,

that I have changed and that my life is different,

that my oddities justify the certainty,

to see that everything has an end...

That house has left me a thousand sequels,

that those girls took care of me without problems,

the bad side is i missed my bus

When I could see the good of the south...

And I want to go back, to see if they are still there,

night psychiatrists who are not looking for a couch…

Torches without light, that do not know how to guide

the footsteps of souls that do not know how to love…

Hotel Madrid, let me in,

I want to go up once more...

Hotel Madrid, that you have planted yourself in my head...

Hotel Madrid, if you are not here,

I can admit that something is wrong.

Hotel Madrid, give me the keys to your door...

Hotel Madrid…

More than three months hooked on that life,

he slept little and wrote in the kitchen.

She passed by to supervise

if I kept hanging on to her way of walking…

She woke me up among filmmakers and dressmakers,

she would get me drunk on "the girl who recycles."

Crazy bastards to justify,

Sundays in the living room...

And I want to go back, look back,

take away the vices that I could not leave,

count to a thousand, to remember

The nights I never wanted to get back...

Hotel Madrid, let me in,

I want to go up once more...

Hotel Madrid, that you have planted yourself in my head...

Hotel Madrid, if you are not here,

I can admit that something is wrong.

Hotel Madrid, give me the keys to your door...

Hotel Madrid…

at least there are memories

who keep standing ...

at least good times

that let us know, that it went well…