Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Yo Mismo, artist - El Barrio. Album song Selección de Grandes Exitos 2002 Vol. 3, in the genre Поп
Date of issue: 31.12.2001
Record label: Flamenco Abierto
Song language: Spanish
Yo Mismo(original) |
Cogi mis ganas y mi guitarra |
Y me puse a andar |
Perdido por Madrid |
Buscando un sitio de compás |
Con una mochila en el hombro |
Y con dos trocitos de pan |
Unos walkman una cinta de Triana |
Con el tema Sé de un lugar |
Me puse una chupa de cuero |
Pa parecer más rockero |
Era aquella típica estampa |
Del niño quinceañero |
Aquel que juraba a sí mismo |
Que levantaria su vuelo |
Y a mi lo que en verdad |
Me gustaba era sentirme |
Flamenco |
Con mucha mierda en los zapatos |
Y muy corto de pelas |
Entré en un bareto extraño |
Llamado Candela |
Bajé unas escaleritas extrechas |
Y me encontré con una cueva |
Y me vi de momento de movida |
Con flamencos de juerga |
Mi gutarra con cuatro cuerdas |
Y con medio vacilón |
J.B. |
por toas las mesas |
Era mi presentación |
Los nervios a mi no me molestan |
Porque se eso se un monton |
Me dejaron a las 9 de la mañana |
Ya iba de pesao |
Termina en la estación de Atocha |
En un banco tirao |
La mochila de almohada |
Y la guitarra en el costao |
Y una fatiga dobles |
En mi cuerpo |
De flamenco resacao |
Estaba en lo mejor del sueño |
Y escuchaba una voz |
Ya mismo carretera |
Y manta era el revisor |
Se sentó junto a mi lao |
Y en voz baja preguntó |
Si sabia algunos de los temas |
Que cantaba el Camarón |
Y por la cuenta que me trae |
Se me quería volver a acostar |
Tenia que hacerle un temita |
Aunque lo tenga que inventar |
Y alli como un pringao |
Cantando pa que me dejaran en paz |
Alma de rockero |
Que me he metido en mi piel |
Corazón flamenco |
De la cabeza a los pies |
(translation) |
I took my desire and my guitar |
And I started to walk |
Lost for Madrid |
Looking for a compass site |
With a backpack on his shoulder |
And with two pieces of bread |
Some walkmans, a Triana tape |
With the theme I know of a place |
I put on a leather jacket |
To look more rocker |
It was that typical picture |
Of the fifteen-year-old boy |
He who swore to himself |
that would take flight |
And to me what really |
I liked was to feel |
Flemish |
With a lot of shit on the shoes |
And very short hair |
I walked into a strange bareto |
Called Candle |
I went down some narrow stairs |
And I found a cave |
And I saw myself at the moment of movement |
With flamingos on the spree |
My guitar with four strings |
And with half a hesitation |
J.B. |
for all the tables |
it was my presentation |
Nerves don't bother me |
Because I know that I know a lot |
They left me at 9 in the morning |
I was already weighing |
End at Atocha station |
In a bank shot |
The pillow backpack |
And the guitar on the coast |
And a double fatigue |
In my body |
From flamingo hangover |
I was in the best of sleep |
And I heard a voice |
right now highway |
And blanket was the reviewer |
He sat next to me |
And softly he asked |
If I knew some of the topics |
What did the Shrimp sing |
And for the account that brings me |
I wanted to go back to bed |
I had to make a little song |
Even if I have to invent it |
And there like a pringao |
Singing so that they would leave me alone |
rocker soul |
That I have gotten into my skin |
flamingo heart |
From head to toe |