Paroles et traduction Iratxo - Mucho Mejor

Mucho Mejor

Se anda por las paredes, se corre por el techo,
Ni se mira de lejos,
Ni pa coger carrerilla se toca el suelo,
Se reza al infierno,
Con la cruz de perchero y ni se ve desde lejos,
Ya no hay ojos que miren al cielo,

Y si es alli, donde se acolchan los golpes y sabe a gloria la tierra,
Donde se bebe la savia que es rica en saliva que cultiva la vida a base de besos,
Mucho mejor, que a palazos aprender a descoser una blusa por la fuerza,
A desatar tempestades cuando se duerme la calma, en la cama de uno, que mira sin saber,

Se trota por los mares se bucea en una pradera,
Que lleva como poco, del ombligo hasta el cieno,
Se esnifan la columna y se cansan de respirar ya ni se notan,
Las canas que deja el no estar de acuerdo

Y si es alli, donde se guiñan los ojos
Los que saben que se van a follar,
Donde la sangre no corre anda despacio,
Porque sabe que mañana quizas no habra mas tiempo,
Mucho mejor que tender las conjuras de locura de una puta luna,
Que desgarrar a bocados los besos ya dados en la mejilla de uno,
Que no quiere saber

So Much Better

Crawling up the walls, running across the ceiling,
Not even looking at distance,
Not even getting a running start to touch the ground,
Praying to hell,
With a cross as a hanger and not even seen from afar,
There are no eyes that look to the sky anymore,

And if it is there, where the blows are cushioned and the earth tastes like glory,
Where they drink the sap that is rich in saliva that cultivates life based on kisses,
So much better than learning by force to rip a blouse apart,
To unleash storms when the calm falls asleep, in the bed of someone,

They trot across the seas and they dive in a meadow,
That has at least, from the bellybutton to the mud,
They snort the spine and they get tired of breathing they can't even feel it,
The gray hair left by not being in agreement

And if it is there, where they wink their eyes,
Those who know they are going to screw,
Where blood doesn't run and moves slowly,
Because it knows that tomorrow there may not be time
Much better than to tend to the spells of madness of a damned full moon,
Than to tear apart with bites the kisses already given
On the cheek of someone,