Paroles et traduction Green Valley - Semana Tras Semana

Semana Tras Semana

Hoy es lunes, me levanto con mal pie;
Ayer era domingo y al final me emborraché.
Te quitas las legañas, te levantas,
Vas hacia el y mientras escoges las bambas coges un cogollo y lo empiezas a grindar;
No estás pensando en nada pero no dejas de pensar,
Tu mirada está fija en aquel punto imaginario,
Has cogido las bambas y ya cierras el armario.

Sales a la calle con los cascos puestos, la gente que te mira saben que estás muerto,
Tus pupilas cegadas por un sol intenso, sintiendo que escalofríos corren por tu cuerpo. Durante la semana todo sigue igual de mal,
Suena el despertador y te tienes que levantar para ir a trabajar y así poder pagar todos los gastos,
La hipoteca, sino te embargarán;
ábrete una cuenta corriente para que puedan quitarte lo que tu tengas pendiente.
Toda la semana deseando que llegue el viernes para poder salir a divertirte como siempre.

Sales a la calle con los cascos puestos, la gente que te mira saben que estás muerto,
Tus pupilas cegadas por un sol intenso, sintiendo que escalofríos corren por tu cuerpo. Llega el fin de semana y necesitas evadirte,
Salir con los colegas,
Necesitas divertirte y olvidar,
Salir de la rutina que te mata y disfrutar de la vida.
Los viernes siempre está todo mas claro,
Tu mente está mas despierta y quieres pillarte otro clavo;
Escondes tus dolores en el fondo del cajón,
Todo el finde escondido gracias a otro colocón;
No te das cuentas de que así nunca consigues nada,
Siempre volver al lunes, semana tras semana.
Debes cambiar las cosas y darle otra calada y cambiar la rutina que te apaga, man.

Sales a la calle con los cascos puestos, la gente que te mira saben que estás muerto,
Tus pupilas cegadas por un sol intenso, sintiendo que escalofríos corren por tu cuerpo.

Week After Week

Today is Monday, I got up on the wrong side;
Yesterday was Sunday and in the end I got drunk.
You clear away the eye candies, get up,
You go to the gym and while you choose your shoes, you grab a bud and start to grind it;
You're not thinking about anything, but you keep thinking,
Your gaze is fixed on that imaginary point,
You've got the shoes and you already close the closet.

You go out on the street with the headphones on, the people looking at you know that you're dead,
Your pupils blinded by an intense sun, feeling that chills run through your body. During the week, everything continues to go wrong,
The alarm clock rings and you have to get up to go to work and thus be able to pay all expenses,
The mortgage, otherwise they'll foreclose;
open a checking account so they can take away what you owe.
All week, wishing that Friday would come so you can go out and have fun as always.

You go out on the street with the headphones on, the people looking at you know that you're dead,
Your pupils blinded by an intense sun, feeling that chills run through your body. The weekend arrives and you need to escape,
Go out with friends,
You need to have fun and forget,
To get away from the routine that kills you and to enjoy life.
On Fridays, everything is always clearer,
Your mind is more awake and you want to get another nail;
You hide your sorrows in the bottom of the drawer,
All weekend hidden thanks to another hit;
You don't realize that you never achieve anything like this,
Always returning to Monday, week after week.
You must change things and take another hit and change the routine that turns you off, man.

You go out on the street with the headphones on, the people looking at you know that you're dead,
Your pupils blinded by an intense sun, feeling that chills run through your body.