Oh qué será - Jorge Drexler

Oh que será, que será

Que andan suspirando por las alcobas

Que andan, susurrando en versos y trovas

Que andan, escondiendo bajo las ropas

Que andan en las cabezas y anda en las bocas

Que va encendiendo velas por callejones

Lo dicen en voz alta en los bodegones

Gritan en el mercado, está con certeza

En la naturaleza, será que será

Que no tiene certeza, ni nunca tendrá

Lo que no tiene arreglo, Ni nunca tendrá

Que no tiene tamaño

Oh que será, que será

Que vive en las ideas de los amantes

Que cantan los poetas mas delirantes

Que juran los profetas embriagados

Que esta en las romerías de mutilados

Que esta en las fantasías mas infelices

Lo vive en dia a dia las meretrices

Lo piensan los bandidos, los desvalidos

Y en todos los sentidos, será que será

Que no tiene decencia, ni nunca tendrá

Que no tiene censura, ni nunca tendrá

Que no tiene sentido

Oh que será, que será

Que todos los avisos no van a evitar

Porque todas las risas van a desafiar

Y todas las campanas van a replicar

Porque todos los signos van a consagrar

Porque todos los niños se habrán de zafar

Y todos los vecinos se irán a encontrar

Y el mismo padre eterno que nunca fue allá

Al ver aquel infierno lo bendecirá

Que no tiene gobierno, ni nunca tendrá

Que no tiene vergüenza, ni nunca tendrá

Lo que no tiene juicio

Oh que será, que será

Que vive en las ideas de los amantes

Que cantan los poetas mas delirantes

Que juran los profetas embriagados

Que esta en las romerías de mutilados

Que esta en las fantasías mas infelices

Lo vive en dia a dia las meretrices

Lo piensan los bandidos, los desvalidos

Y en todos los sentidos, será que será

Que no tiene decencia, ni nunca tendrá

Que no tiene censura, ni nunca tendrá

Que no tiene sentido

Oh what will be, what will be

who are sighing through the bedrooms

Who walk, whispering in verses and trovas

That they walk, hiding under the clothes

That walk in the heads and walk in the mouths

That goes lighting candles through alleys

They say it out loud in the still lifes

They shout in the market, it is with certainty

In nature, it will be that it will be

That is not certain, nor will it ever be

What has no fix, will never have

that has no size

Oh what will be, what will be

That lives in the ideas of lovers

That the most delirious poets sing

That drunken prophets swear

What is in the pilgrimages of mutilated

What is in the unhappiest fantasies

The prostitutes live it day by day

The bandits think it, the underdogs

And in every way, it will be that it will be

That he has no decency, nor will he ever have

That has no censorship, nor will it ever have

that doesn't make sense

Oh what will be, what will be

That all the warnings will not prevent

'Cause all the laughs go to defy

And all the bells will chime

Because all the signs will consecrate

Because all the children will have to get away

And all the neighbors will go to meet

And the same eternal father who never went there

Seeing that hell will bless him

That has no government, nor will it ever have

That has no shame, nor will it ever have

What has no judgment

Oh what will be, what will be

That lives in the ideas of lovers

That the most delirious poets sing

That drunken prophets swear

What is in the pilgrimages of mutilated

What is in the unhappiest fantasies

The prostitutes live it day by day

The bandits think it, the underdogs

And in every way, it will be that it will be

That he has no decency, nor will he ever have

That has no censorship, nor will it ever have

that doesn't make sense