Текст и перевод песни Vic Deal feat. Afterclass - El Sentido de los Sentidos

El Sentido de los Sentidos

Pa' que ojos, si de enojo van ciegos
Solo oyen la voz feroz y atroz que sale de su ego
Yo ruego que luego inhalen de mi perfume
Saboreen y palpen el fruto de su cacumen
Pa' que ojos, si de enojo van ciegos
Solo oyen la voz feroz y atroz que sale de su ego
Yo ruego que luego inhalen de mi perfume
Saboreen y palpen el fruto de su cacumen
Veo borregos caminar con miedo
Y fieles a sus convicciones abandonar sus credos
Ahora son ciegos y yo testigo ocular
Lloran igual pierdan a su mamá o su celular
Y sus hijos crecerán con padres ausentes
Que perdieron, no vivieron el momento presente
No hay materia gris fecundando sus cráneos
Fingir saberlo todo es otro mal contemporáneo
Se perdió lo espontáneo y oídos no prestan
Hoy idolatran grupos y mañana los detestan
Opinan lo que otros dicen se quedan con eso y listo
Juzgan la música por la portada de los discos
Para ser especifico hablan lo convencional
Que lo viejo es mejor, lo nuevo muy comercial
Ese amor por la música se esconde no se donde
Solo cantan en la ducha y solo escuchan one hit wonders
Presiento, cien porciento aun está por venir
No me preocupa el talento si hay aliento pa' persistir
Me identifica más lo que escucho que lo que leo
No alimento mi intelecto más si mi instinto y sus deseos
Mi olfato desearía que todo huela a lo que aparenta
Mi mente detectaría y así se daría cuenta
Que los malos huelen mal, los buenos huelen bien
Políticos huelen a mierda, pero la Fania al edén
Aquí donde me ven saboreé mis derrotas
Me tragué cartas amargas y viejas promesas rotas
Témanle a mi lengua como a las aguas mansas
Degusto lo que escupo, me supo dulce la venganza
Plasmo pálpitos, planes, no poemas ya escritos
Aplacar plasta plástica en mi pueblo no es delito
Aplano plagas sin plomo como plastilina a diario
Sin ser policía sin placa ni plomero como Mario

The Meaning of the Senses

What eyes, if they are blind with anger
They only hear the ferocious and cruel voice that comes from their ego
I pray that they will later inhale my perfume
Taste and feel the fruit of their intelligence
What eyes, if they are blind with anger
They only hear the ferocious and cruel voice that comes from their ego
I pray that they will later inhale my perfume
Taste and feel the fruit of their intelligence
I see sheep walking in fear
And faithful to their convictions abandoning their creeds
Now they are blind and I am an eyewitness
They cry the same whether they lose their mother or their cell phone
And their children will grow up with absent fathers
Who lost, did not live in the present moment
There is no gray matter fertilizing their skulls
Pretending to know everything is another contemporary evil
The spontaneous has been lost and ears do not lend
Today they idolize groups and tomorrow they detest them
They opine what others say, they stick with it and that's it
They judge music by the cover of the albums
To be specific, they speak conventionally
That the old is better, the new is very commercial
That love for music hides somewhere, I don't know where
They only sing in the shower and only listen to one-hit wonders
I feel, one hundred percent, it is yet to come
I'm not worried about talent if there's breath to persist
I identify more with what I hear than what I read
I do not nourish my intellect more, if my instinct and its desires
My nose would like everything to smell like it looks
My mind would detect and thus realize
That the bad smell bad, the good smell good
Politicians smell like shit, but Fania smells like Eden
Here where you see me I savored my defeats
I swallowed bitter letters and broken promises
Fear my tongue as you fear calm waters
I taste what I spit, revenge tasted sweet to me
I mold palpitations, plans, not poems already written
To appease plastic paste in my town is not a crime
I flatten plagues without lead like plasticine daily
Without being a policeman without a badge or a plumber like Mario