Paroles et traduction Pj Sin Suela - Las Balas Lloran

Las Balas Lloran

Una bala anda volando, perdida como un niño
Saliendo de su casa porque no siente cariño
Y el viento la acaricia, ya busca ser noticia
Cayendo en un craneo con ningun tipo'e justicia, ni malicia
Fue tito en su nota, que estaba celebrando y disparo dos balas locas, porque se habia enterado que su hijo el menor anoto la ultima carrera del juego de beisbol.
Ahora una madre a su hijo esta aguantando, gritando: "Puñeta, que carajo esta pasando?"
"Llama al 9-11, ayuda por favor."
El publico esta tieso, "Nadie aqui es fokin doctor?"
"si, yo" - alguien dijo mientras se acercaba, le dijo yo me encargo con dos lagrima' en la cara porque el niño se habia ido con su angel preferido.
Se encontraba volando con la que no habia caido.
Lloran, las balas lloran
lloran, las madres lloran
lloran, y nadie me enseño, nadie me enseño, a dar un pesame.
Se escucha un padre nuestro, y mil ave marias,
La madre suplicando "Dios, llevate la mia, llevate mi vida, has un milagro por mi nene, tiene tanto por ver, dice que va a guiar trenes porque quiere buscar un lugar especial donde nadie pelea y solo se puede jugar, no lo pueden castigar en utopia no hay coraje, y los niños se entienden en todos los lenguajes.
No hay padres divorciados, ni gente sin comida, ni mentes suicidas, ni cancer, ni sida, ni heridas, ni guerras, raza o dolor.
La unica religion que existe es amor, y el color de la piel importa igual que el del iris, no hay pasaporte entre D.F. y New York City, ni tierras que dividen tierras entre angulos y to' el mundo vive sus sueños sonambulo.
Despierta a gritar con esperanza al ver que se esta estacionando una ambulancia, pero no hubo cura, el cuerpo sigue en el pasto.
Uno dice: como carajo traspazo el casco?
Otro dice: pobre madre que se hace en un mundo donde la vida cambia en solo un micro-segundo.
Y otro pobre tito se va a matal cuando se entere que su hijo no volvio a respirar.
Lloran, las balas lloran
lloran, los padres lloran
lloran, y nadie me enseño, nadie me enseño, a dar un pesame.

Bullets Cry

A bullet is flying, lost like a child
Leaving his house because he feels no love
And the wind caresses him, he already seeks to be news
Falling into a skull with no justice or malice
It was his uncle in his note, who was celebrating and fired two stray bullets, because he had learned that his youngest son had scored the last run of the baseball game.
Now a mother is holding her son, screaming: "Damn, what the hell is going on?"
"Call 9-11, help please."
The audience is stiff, "Ain't nobody here a fokin doctor?"
"Yes, I am" - someone said as he approached, he said I'll take care of it with two tears on his face because the boy had gone with his favorite angel.
He was flying with the one that hadn't fallen.
They cry, the bullets cry
They cry, the mothers cry
They cry, and nobody taught me, nobody taught me, to give condolences.
You hear a "Our Father", and a thousand "Hail Marys",
The mother begging "God, take mine, take my life, do a miracle for my baby, there's so much he has to see, he says he's going to drive trains because he wants to find a special place where nobody fights and you can only play, they can't punish him in utopia there's no courage, and children understand each other in all languages.
There are no divorced parents, no hungry people, no suicidal minds, no cancer, no AIDS, no wounds, no wars, race or pain.
The only religion that exists is love, and the color of the skin matters the same as that of the iris, there is no passport between D.F. and New York City, no lands that divide lands between angles and everyone lives their dreams sleepwalking.
He wakes up screaming with hope when he sees an ambulance pulling up, but there was no cure, the body is still in the grass.
One says: how the hell did it pass through the helmet?
Another says: poor mother who is put into a world where life changes in just a micro-second.
And another poor uncle is going to kill himself when he finds out that his son didn't breathe again.
They cry, the bullets cry
They cry, the parents cry
They cry, and nobody taught me, nobody taught me, to give condolences.