Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Gatos celestes, artist - Melendi. Album song Lágrimas desordenadas, in the genre Поп
Date of issue: 12.11.2012
Record label: Warner Music Spain
Song language: Spanish
Gatos celestes(original) |
En la puerta de la disco |
Dos gallitos se pelean |
Y un ratero que esta listo, le echa el ojo a una cartera |
Un galán encorbatado, muy formal y predispuesto |
Le solicita un servicio de esos que no pagan impuestos |
A una dama, con la moral distraída… |
Y en la acera de enfrente dos policías |
Disfrazados de secretas, o es lo que ellas interpretan observando la jauría |
Y la luna brindando por ellas, las mas bellas las botellas |
Y la noche pasando de todo en los coches, picándose, quemando ruedas |
Y en el barrio mas disparos, que en un espagueti western |
Y los gatos mas guepardos son celestes |
Y en la esquina de la barra puestos hay dos cara duras |
Que de cada cinco copas solamente pagan una |
Y su amiga la camarera que es adicta a la anestesia |
Le suele pagar en carne lo que le dan en especia |
Y un gitano que se llevan detenido |
Grita desesperado se han confundido |
Agente soy inocente |
El que usted está buscando lleva ralla al otro lado |
Y la luna brindando por ellas, las mas bellas las botellas |
Y la noche pasando de todo en los coches, picándose, quemando ruedas |
Y en el barrio mas disparos, que en un espagueti western |
Y los gatos mas guepardos son celestes |
Y los tejados llenos de gatos del este |
Unos huyen de si mismos y otros huyen de la gente |
Porque nadie les comprende |
Dios los trae y ellos se juntan por lo callejones |
Para contarse batallas de vidas y amores |
Maquillando sus historias que imaginaciones |
Y la luna brindando por ellas, las mas bellas las botellas |
Y la noche pasando de todo en los coches, picándose, quemando ruedas |
Y en el barrio mas disparos, que en un espagueti western |
Y los gatos mas guepardos son celestes |
(translation) |
At the door of the disco |
Two roosters fight |
And a pickpocket who's smart takes a look at a wallet |
A gallant in a tie, very formal and predisposed |
He asks for a service of those who do not pay taxes |
To a lady, with distracted morals... |
And on the sidewalk opposite two policemen |
Disguised as secrets, or is that what they interpret by observing the pack |
And the moon toasting them, the most beautiful bottles |
And the night spending everything in the cars, getting stung, burning wheels |
And in the neighborhood more shots than in a spaghetti western |
And the most cheetah cats are light blue |
And in the corner of the bar stalls there are two hard faces |
That out of every five drinks they only pay for one |
And her friend of hers the waitress who is addicted to anesthesia |
She usually pays him in meat what they give her in spice |
And a gypsy who is arrested |
He shouts desperately they have been confused |
Agent I'm innocent |
The one you are looking for leads to the other side |
And the moon toasting them, the most beautiful bottles |
And the night spending everything in the cars, getting stung, burning wheels |
And in the neighborhood more shots than in a spaghetti western |
And the most cheetah cats are light blue |
And the rooftops full of eastern cats |
Some run away from themselves and others run away from people |
because no one understands them |
God brings them and they hang out in the alleys |
To tell each other battles of lives and loves |
Making up their stories that imaginations |
And the moon toasting them, the most beautiful bottles |
And the night spending everything in the cars, getting stung, burning wheels |
And in the neighborhood more shots than in a spaghetti western |
And the most cheetah cats are light blue |