| There is someone on the Moon of Valencia
|
| That yesterday he went for a walk
|
| And she stayed to live there...
|
| I know him, he is an unfaithful friend:
|
| He cut himself and hurt himself
|
| Maybe some crazy people from that neighborhood
|
| stage partners
|
| We can rescue him...
|
| Because a dear voice crosses the sea
|
| And it touches intimate fibers
|
| More when you walk so far
|
| Asking for help in the desert
|
| Disintegrated, in a crater it fell
|
| And he is dazed and without reflection
|
| And... he cries when he remembers
|
| That love that made it shit
|
| Or because he does not want to recognize
|
| That he is a damn Argentine
|
| Set sail to full of uncertain phobia
|
| Always a bad love regrets
|
| He carries a dagger in his chest...
|
| That's a lady's offering
|
| that the king did not want
|
| And a slow ride to a moonless honeymoon
|
| Staying is as sad as leaving
|
| It is that he has a certainty:
|
| He only knows how to be wrong
|
| And he goes, lost, waiting for a sign
|
| Prisoner in the mist of inertia
|
| More when you walk so far
|
| Asking for help in exile
|
| Disintegrated, in a crater it fell
|
| And he goes dazed and without reflexes
|
| And... he cries when he remembers
|
| That love that made it shit
|
| Or because he does not want to recognize
|
| That he is alone, on the Moon of Valencia
|
| Only in the Valencian Moon, only… |