| Suddenly, August comes and you see that there is water on the asphalt
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| I know it's not real
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| The minute hand, these days is
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| Like the neighbor you can't see
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| a gray official
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| (I also see you and they are)
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| Ideal days to practice counterespionage
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| for your city
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| Barcelona will disguise itself as a town of modernity
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| We natives will try to be more friendly
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| And at a safe distance, I hear a voice that is familiar
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| She says "come see me"
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| When I finally arrive, he is gone, he leaves me written on a portal:
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| "I am life, imbecile"
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| September will come to get me
|
| And I still don't know the lesson
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| about knowing how to behave
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| At birth and at goodbye
|
| I saw decay among the crowd
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| And super languid people carry their cross
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| And the satyr of the Fifth C
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| saying that people are
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| so impenetrable
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| I had ideas to get out of here, escapism maneuvers
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| What naivety!
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| I dreamed of being able to make a living from the fairy tale at a good age
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| Without showing even a gray hair of impatience
|
| And at a safe distance, I hear a voice that is familiar
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| He yells, "Stay away!"
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| When I finally arrive, it is no longer written, she is real:
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| "It's life, asshole"
|
| September will come to get me
|
| And I still don't know the lesson
|
| about knowing how to behave
|
| At birth and at goodbye
|
| I do not resign myself to contemplating the world from an open-air cinema
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| Of very ordinary argument
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| I parked my will and in front of me, two men stole it
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| It was a night making a bridge
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| yes it was real
|
| It was life, idiot
|
| September will come to get me
|
| And I still don't know the lesson
|
| about knowing how to behave
|
| At birth and goodbye...
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| and in goodbye |