| You step on the street, you walk in black
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| Misery drives nails into black
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| And she makes love, to the beat, without gas
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| Bells ring you move, suspect
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| With your chest on your shoulders, you start to dance
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| To skate, you pump blood to niggas
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| Why do you feel the sky so much, you feel every wall
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| Every day, every corner in the city
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| It's Sunday and it's very cold
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| The monster of the ramblas follows you
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| It follows you, silent...
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| The machine always turns black
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| And raise the tomato, without stopping the rent
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| Without stopping the movement, follow the streets
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| And the children, where are they?
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| The machine always turns black
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| And raise the tomato, without stopping the rent
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| Without stopping the movement is in the streets
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| And in the parks, where are they?
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| Shoot blacks when you're stuck
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| when you dream of death
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| Or your boss wants to rape you
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| If you have everything for which you left everything
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| And you feel like crying
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| It is that you are part of the gear
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| It is that you rust day by day
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| Remember, the bells don't stop ringing
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| And they go through walls if you want to hear them
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| That the machine always turns black
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| And raise the tomato without stopping the rent
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| Without stopping the movement is in the streets
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| And your dreams, where are they? |