Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Ellas denunciaron, artist - Def Con Dos. Album song De Poca Madre, in the genre Ню-метал
Date of issue: 16.02.1998
Record label: Dro East West
Song language: Spanish
Ellas denunciaron(original) |
¿Y cuántas mujeres al año? |
¿Y cuántas mujeres? |
¿Y cuántas mujeres al año, saben que tienen sus días contados? |
Ella no recuerda porque aunque quiera |
No puede acordarse |
Del error cometido al fiarse |
De aquel tipo mezquino y cobarde |
Marido, verdugo |
Su peor pesadilla |
Ella está muerta y el en la calle |
¡La maté porque era mía! |
'Mía, mía, mía, sólo mía' |
¿Quién ha ofendido al macho dominante? |
¿Quién se ha atrevido a denunciarle? |
Destapando el secreto |
De la otra cara de un vecino correcto |
¿Quién acusa al cazurro cobarde |
Que pega a su mujer y le dice que calle? |
'Ya se lo advertí entre puñetazos: |
Si me denuncias te mato' |
País de mierda, país infame |
Que ataquen a mujeres no le importa a nadie |
Las torturas y las amenazas |
Según los jueces son cosas de casa |
No sirve de nada pedir ayuda |
No existe delito si no se consuma |
Sólo cuando ya están muertas |
Ven que las amezanas eran ciertas |
¿Y cuántas mujeres al año? |
¿Y cuántas mujeres? |
¿Y cuántas mujeres al año, saben que tienen sus días contados? |
'Mía, mía, mía, sólo mía' |
Ellas no recuerdan lo que les pasó |
Ni por qué les pasaba |
Porque ya están muertas y ningún cadaver |
Puede, aunque quiera, acordarse de nada |
Y no se lamentan de los que pasó |
Ni por lo que pasaron, porque los muertos |
No emiten lamentos y en vez de gritar |
Les toca callarse y se callan |
Ellas denunciaron, no las escucharon |
Ellas murieron, los jueces consintieron |
¿Y cuántas mujeres al año? |
¿Y cuántas mujeres? |
¿Y cuántas mujeres al año, saben que tienen sus días contados? |
(translation) |
And how many women a year? |
And how many women? |
And how many women a year, do you know that their days are numbered? |
She doesn't remember why she even if she wants to |
she can't remember |
Of the mistake made by trusting |
Of that petty and cowardly type |
husband, executioner |
your worst nightmare |
She is dead and he is on the street |
I killed her because she was mine! |
'Mine, mine, mine, only mine' |
Who has offended the dominant male? |
Who has dared to denounce him? |
Uncovering the secret |
From the other side of a correct neighbor |
Who accuses the cowardly brat |
That he beats his wife of her and tells her to shut up? |
'I already warned him between punches: |
If you report me I'll kill you' |
Shit country, infamous country |
That they attack women does not matter to anyone |
torture and threats |
According to the judges they are things from home |
It's no use asking for help |
There is no crime if it is not consumed |
Only when they are already dead |
They see that the threats were true |
And how many women a year? |
And how many women? |
And how many women a year, do you know that their days are numbered? |
'Mine, mine, mine, only mine' |
They don't remember what happened to them |
Nor why it happened to them |
Because they are already dead and no corpse |
She can, even if she wants to, remember anything |
And they do not regret what happened |
Nor for what they went through, because the dead |
They do not emit wails and instead of shouting |
It's their turn to shut up and they shut up |
They denounced, they were not listened to |
They died, the judges consented |
And how many women a year? |
And how many women? |
And how many women a year, do you know that their days are numbered? |