Ilusorio - Kevin Johansen

El es… el incomprendido

Es lo que le ha sucedido

Y aunque haya padecido

Es lo que ha elegido

Riega con sus escritos

Boliches y garitos

Y alguien lo ha convencido

Que es un poeta maldito

De bar en bar

Café en café

Cree que lo observan

Nadie lo ve

Cree que por ser bohemio

Le van a dar un premio

Pero se ha vuelto abstemio

Y el mozo frunce el ceño

Cansado de ser pobre

Y de tantos engaños

Su madre no le da un cobre

A sus 40 años

Podrías ser vos, podría ser yo

Incomprendidos somos todos

Podría ser él o aquellos dos

Incomprendidos somos todos

Podrías ser vos, podría ser yo

Incomprendidos somos todos

Da-ra-ra-ra da-ra-ra-ra

Da-ra-ra-ra da-ra-ra-ra

Da-ra-ra-ra

He is… the misunderstood

It is what has happened to him

And although he has suffered

He is what he has chosen

Water with your writings

Bowling alleys and gambling dens

And someone has convinced him

That he is a damn poet

From bar to bar

coffee in cafe

He thinks they're watching him

no one sees it

He thinks that being bohemian

They are going to give you an award

But he has become teetotal

And the waiter frowns

tired of being poor

And of so many deceptions

His mother does not give him a copper

At 40 years old

It could be you, it could be me

Misunderstood we are all

It could be him or those two

Misunderstood we are all

It could be you, it could be me

Misunderstood we are all

Da-ra-ra-ra da-ra-ra-ra

Da-ra-ra-ra da-ra-ra-ra

Da-ra-ra-ra