The old man upstairs wants to clean me up
But I don't think he can fix it
This head refuses to stop
It's not calm
It's not a wound, it's a hole in love
Lost bullet in an alcohol trance
Drunk for no good reason
I don't catch one
No one can stop it
Everything is for feeling
Mashing, crushing
Our ranch was rotting
The old man upstairs doesn't know how to live
I don't let him paint my sky gray
And there's no way I'm going to allow
That it saddens me
Lost path I don't use a watch
The rumba bardera already takes color
My heart was with the strays
To the top
No one can stop it
Tonight I will go to the end
With the crazy people, the drunks
With the whores and the guachos
In the hallway of a liberated world
To the pleasure of a marginal mmbo
To the corner of a crazy game
Until lying down in fullness, until lying down
Cachaca that lasts
Cahaca that lasts< br/>Cachaca, at Joan's MesóNo one will be able to stop it
Tonight I will go to the end
With the crazy people, the drunks
With the whores and the guachos
In the hallway of a liberated world
To the pleasure of a marginal mambo
In the corner of a deranged game
Until completely knocked down, until knocked down
The old man above
He shot, he believed himself to be God
The old man from above
He shot, he believed himself to be God
Cachaca, let it last
Cachaca that lasts
Cachaca, in Joan's Mesón
Cachaca, that lasts
Cachaca that lasts
Cachaca in Joan's

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS