Standing still, standing still, damn parasites
Blessed little Saturdays, addicted to liters and shouting
Anarchic habits, heartbeats of summer already at the snout
Mojitos, crazy little girls, little sips of life and little sun

They play to see who is the most handsome
I had pimples, I could never get into the fray
Underground, that's my habitat
Find me on the street thirsty for beers and rap
I think I'm falling in love
But not with a woman, rather with the street rhythm
There are no girls around here, only rappers
Only thugs, drunks, and potheads
I wore shirts, me, shoes, no
Maybe some Timberlands, me, boat shoes, no
Entire areas discarded
Bars full of dressed-up girls
But I would have to disguise myself
If I disguise myself, what am I for Rap?
I'm not envious, who's missing out OK
I'm with the great rhymers in the park
Crazy in rap to have more skill
No rush to lose my virginity
I did a couple of shows, each worse than the last
I won't go back up until I do better
The girls in my class say I'm a weird guy
You only come close to ask me for cigarettes
I don't know how to relate
Always with headphones so you can't talk to me
I didn't have sisters, we were all guys, girl
My beauty standard is the Virgin Mary
We are three teenagers in the same house, tick-tock-tick, time bomb
I'm just a kid
I'm trembling with a knife in the hallway
I write lyrics about the devil in the afternoon
And at night I pray Our Fathers until I fall asleep

Standing still, standing still, damn parasites
Blessed little Saturdays, addicted to liters and shouting
Anarchic habits, heartbeats of summer already at the snout
Mojitos, crazy little girls, little sips of life and little sun

Stomach ache, all morning
Today my girl is coming to pick me up from school
She skips class for me, a big gesture
Only a few minutes separate me from her hug
I go to the bathroom to groom myself but seeing my face
Full of pimples, I leave it bloodied
Wrapped in fury, wanting to tear my hair out
I go outside with my self-esteem on the floor
I don't want to see her, nausea, cold sweat
And even though she came to see me from the other side of the river
I go home without greeting her, what's up?
I cry in the corner, cursed by my greasy face
To be honest, it was only the first
Of a million complexes that came later
I made a shell with trash
Lived hating myself without being able to ask for help
Books by Bukowski, whiskey, loneliness
Blind until losing consciousness of my ugliness
The end is obvious, she left me for another
Who would want a boyfriend without a gram of self-love?
The little I had to lose, I've lost
I can say it's the strongest pain I've felt
Moping around bars, wounded animal
Grateful, for I never felt so alive
Sabina and Calamaro are the salvation
Fruits and vegetables are the imagination
Every night at the local during the week
Laughing at everything makes me forget the drama
Outside of them, I only have rap
Clumsy poems that don't help me hook up
Stage fright, I vomit at concerts
Making my raw feeling physical
Failed in love, only love for rum
The solution will be to lower the bar
Starving, ugly groupies
Zero chemistry forcing with a prude

They are just memories, blurred by the passage of time
Better still, better still
Frozen better, standing still

Standing still, standing still, damn parasites
Blessed little Saturdays, addicted to liters and shouting
Anarchic habits, heartbeats of summer already at the snout
Mojitos, crazy little girls, little sips of life and little sun

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