Текст и перевод песни Els Amics De Les Arts - La Merda Se'ns Menja (En Directe)

La Merda Se'ns Menja (En Directe)

Sé prou bé que puges a Verdaguer
I és que jo des de Joanic que no sé com posar-m'hi.
I faig veure que no t'he estat guardant seient
I aixì molt discretament aparto la maleta
Quan et veig passar.
Ho tinc tot mil·limetrat.
Vas i dius "està ocupat?"
I segurament penses que sóc un passerell
Però abans de ser a Bogatell
Potser ja t'he convençut
Perquè fugis amb mi i ho deixis tot.
Que no m'has dit, que no m'has dit
Si em queda bé la barba.
Que no m'has dit, que no m'has dit
Com ho tens per escapar-te amb mi.
Que no m'has dit, que no m'has dit
Si vols que t'ensenyi un lloc on de nit és de nit.
I és que aquí, la merda se'ns menja.
I és que aquí, ja no s'hi pot estar.
Compartir, pagar una hipoteca junts,
Maleir cada dilluns
Per haver allargat el diumenge.
I comprovar que París et queda bé.
I si plou, no passa res.
Quin sonat va inventar el paraigües?
Que no t'he dit, que no t'he dit
Que Barcelona ens crema.
Que no t'he dit, que no t'he dit
Que no és teva ni meva.
Que no t'he dit, que no t'he dit
Que tot i no ser massa guapo, sóc molt divertit.
I és que aquí, la merda se'ns menja.
I és que aquí, ja no s'hi pot estar.

Poop Is Eating Us (Live)

I know well that you go to Verdaguer
And it's been since I was in Joanic that I don't know how to approach you.
I pretend that I haven't been saving you a seat
And so very discretely I move my suitcase
When I see you passing by.
I have everything planned down to the millimeter.
You go and say "Is this taken?"
And you probably think I'm a chatterbox
But before we get to Bogatell
Maybe I've already convinced you
To run away with me and leave everything behind.
You haven't told me, you haven't told me
If the beard looks good on me.
You haven't told me, you haven't told me
How you are about running away with me.
You haven't told me, you haven't told me
If you want me to show you a place where it's night at night.
And here, the shit is eating us.
And here, we can't stay any longer.
Sharing, paying a mortgage together,
Cursing every Monday
For having extended Sunday.
And checking that Paris looks good on you.
And if it rains, it doesn't matter.
What a nut invented the umbrella?
You haven't told me, you haven't told me
That Barcelona is burning us.
You haven't told me, you haven't told me
That it's neither yours nor mine.
You haven't told me, you haven't told me
That despite not being very handsome, I'm very funny.
And here, the shit is eating us.
And here, we can't stay any longer.