Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song El chicle infinito, artist - Huecco. Album song Huecco, in the genre Поп
Date of issue: 13.03.2006
Record label: Warner Music Spain
Song language: Spanish
El chicle infinito(original) |
Robar, esa horrible palabra |
Cuando robas el alma o la calma |
De quien no come nada |
Mírame yo soy un ladrón |
Pero de momentos bellos |
De gruesos cabellos |
Que le hizo esta canción |
Y robé su cuello |
Sus momentos más bellos |
Su cama, su cintura de avispa |
Y sus mejores recuerdos |
Morir, saber que moriría que sí, que sí |
Por pegarle a mi cuerpo |
Es que la llevo muy dentro |
Parar el viento, escalar, seguir subiendo |
Congelar el tiempo y tocar el cielo |
Parar el viento, escalar, seguir subiendo |
Congelar el tiempo y tocar el cielo… |
Con los dedos… |
Con los dedos… |
Con los dedos… aahh |
Quiero estirar a muerte |
Todo el tiempo a su lado |
Convertir las horas galgas |
En caracoles cojeando |
Y mirar a las estrellas |
Y no lavar jamás las huellas |
De sus manos en mi pelo |
De sus labios en mi pecho |
Hablar, esa horrible palabra |
Cuando ladras |
Presumes mucho siempre |
Y nunca dices nada |
Mírame yo sí presumo |
De que no consumo |
No fumo y escupo |
A la cara falsa de quien ladra |
Tanto, no hables tanto |
Me estás mareando |
Hablan nada esas mandíbulas rayadas |
Ella es ahora |
Lo único que me importa |
Enterrar tu puño |
Desoír tu historia |
Tus aburridas noches |
Tus borrachas norias |
Tu varicela de goles |
Pichichis y victorias |
Cobarde |
Cómetete tus cuernos |
Por pegarla sola |
Por ponerte ciego |
En ese antro de moda |
Y, qué daría yo, qué daría yo |
Por tener sus labios |
Por tenerla toda |
Por abrir su risa |
Mojar su boca |
Tropezar en sus ojos |
Y beber en sus olas |
Abrir su risa |
Mojar su boca |
Tropezar en sus ojos |
Y beber cada noche sus olas… |
Sus olas… sus olas… aaahhh… |
Quiero estirar a muerte |
Todo el tiempo a su lado |
Convertir las horas galgas |
En caracoles cojeando |
Y mirar a las estrellas |
Y no lavar jamás las huellas |
De sus manos en mi pelo |
De sus labios en mi pecho |
Recorrer las curvas lindas |
De su cuerpo azucarado |
Arañar la seda fina |
De su pelo despeinado |
Y acostar nuestras sonrisas |
Y matar todas las prisas |
Se atraviesan como espinas |
Esos besos de latina |
He parado el tiempo |
Y vaciado la arena |
De aquel viejo reloj… |
He estirado el tiempo |
Con un para siempre |
Del chicle infinito en mi diente |
Quiero estirar a muerte |
Todo el tiempo a su lado |
Convertir las horas galgas |
En caracoles cojeando |
Y mirar a las estrellas |
Y no lavar jamás las huellas |
De sus manos en mi pelo |
De sus labios en mi pecho |
Recorrer las curvas lindas |
De su cuerpo azucarado |
Arañar la seda fina |
De su pelo despeinado |
Y acostar nuestras sonrisas |
Y matar todas las prisas |
Se atraviesan como espinas |
Esos besos de latina |
Y yo quiero estirar a muerte |
Todo el tiempo a su lado |
Convertir las horas galgas |
En caracoles cojeando |
Y mirar a las estrellas |
Y no lavar jamás las huellas |
De sus manos en mi pelo |
De sus labios en mi pecho |
Recorrer las curvas lindas |
De su cuerpo azucarado |
Arañar la seda fina |
De su pelo despeinado |
Y acostar nuestras sonrisas |
Y matar todas las prisas |
Se atraviesan como espinas |
Esos besos de latina |
(translation) |
Steal, that horrible word |
When you steal the soul or the calm |
Who does not eat anything |
Look at me I'm a thief |
But of beautiful moments |
of thick hair |
What did this song do to him? |
And I stole her neck |
Your most beautiful moments |
His bed, his wasp waist |
and your best memories |
To die, to know that she would die, yes, yes |
For hitting my body |
It's that I carry it deep inside |
Stop the wind, climb, keep climbing |
Freeze time and touch the sky |
Stop the wind, climb, keep climbing |
Freeze time and touch the sky… |
With the fingers… |
With the fingers… |
With the fingers… aahh |
I want to stretch to death |
All the time by your side |
Convert gauge hours |
In limping snails |
And look at the stars |
And never wash away the traces |
Of her hands of hers in my hair |
From her lips of hers on my chest |
speak, that awful word |
when you bark |
You always presume a lot |
and you never say anything |
Look at me yes I presume |
that I do not consume |
I don't smoke and I spit |
To the false face of the one who barks |
So much, don't talk so much |
You are making me dizzy |
Those scratched jaws speak nothing |
she is now |
The only thing that matters to me |
bury your fist |
ignore your story |
your boring nights |
Your drunk Ferris wheels |
Your chickenpox of goals |
Top scorers and victories |
Coward |
eat your horns |
for hitting her alone |
for making you blind |
In that trendy joint |
And what would I give, what would I give |
to have her lips |
for having it all |
From her for opening her laugh |
wet your mouth |
tripping on his eyes |
And drink in its waves |
Open your laugh |
wet your mouth |
tripping on his eyes |
And drink every night the waves of it... |
Her waves… her waves… aaahhh… |
I want to stretch to death |
All the time by your side |
Convert gauge hours |
In limping snails |
And look at the stars |
And never wash away the traces |
Of her hands of hers in my hair |
From her lips of hers on my chest |
Go through the beautiful curves |
Of her body of her sugary |
Scratch fine silk |
Of her disheveled hair |
And lay down our smiles |
And kill all the rush |
They pierce like thorns |
Those Latin kisses |
I have stopped time |
And emptied the sand |
Of that old clock... |
I have stretched the time |
with a forever |
Of infinite gum on my tooth |
I want to stretch to death |
All the time by your side |
Convert gauge hours |
In limping snails |
And look at the stars |
And never wash away the traces |
Of her hands of hers in my hair |
From her lips of hers on my chest |
Go through the beautiful curves |
Of her body of her sugary |
Scratch fine silk |
of his disheveled hair |
And lay down our smiles |
And kill all the rush |
They pierce like thorns |
Those Latin kisses |
And I want to stretch to death |
All the time by your side |
Convert gauge hours |
In limping snails |
And look at the stars |
And never wash away the traces |
Of her hands of hers in my hair |
From her lips of hers on my chest |
Go through the beautiful curves |
Of your sugary body |
Scratch fine silk |
of his disheveled hair |
And lay down our smiles |
And kill all the rush |
They pierce like thorns |
Those Latin kisses |