Текст и перевод песни Zoo - La del Futbol

La del Futbol

Corre per la banda una banda armada,
Armada per màfies, ambient distés.
22 cabrons encenent la grada, la penya malhumorada
Perquè no entra el balonet.

La multitud anava al circ romà,
Passió real, fidelitat devota.
La soledat no és plat de gust, germà,
Soc gilipollas però no masoca.
La multitud vol gol, i gol tindrà,
Domini clar del joc i la pilota,
I tu has triat l′equip equivocat,
Sempre perdent, dia de la marmota.

Corre per la banda una banda armada,
Armada per màfies, ambient distés.
22 cabrons encenent la grada, la penya malhumorada
Perquè no entra el balonet.

Jo, que em somiava seleccionat,
"Per entrar ací no cal nota",
Que fàcil pinten les coses quan tens uns cognoms tan llargs.
Tu, que et van dir "vas a ser un crack!",
T'has quedat amb cara d′idiota,
Una partida amanyada i un gol cantat.

Són dosis d'opi letal,
Puntades del capital...
I t'han fregit la neurona,
I mai acaba el partit:
Trinca Juan Carlos; trinca Felip.
I algú assenyala la lluna,
Però mirem tots al dit.
No se sent a gust, no viu tranquil,
Su majestad està trist!

I t′han fregit la neurona,
I mai acaba el partit:
Trinca Juan Carlos; trinca Felip.
I algú assenyala la lluna,
Però mirem tots al dit.
No se sent a gust, no viu tranquil,
Su majestad està trist!
Su majestad està trist!
Su majestad està trist!
Su majestad està trist!
Su majestad...
Corre per la banda una banda armada.

Soccer Ball

There's a band running by the sideline, a militant band,
Armed by the mafia, but the atmosphere is relaxed.
22 jerks light up the grandstand, you're killing the vibe,
Because the ball won't go in.

The crowds used to go to the Roman circus,
True passion, devotional loyalty.
Loneliness is not on the menu, my friend,
I'm an idiot, but I'm not masochistic.
The crowds want goals, and they will get goals,
Clear control of the game and the ball,
And you've picked the wrong team,
Always losing, Groundhog Day.

There's a band running by the sideline, a militant band,
Armed by the mafia, but the atmosphere is relaxed.
22 jerks light up the grandstand, you're killing the vibe,
Because the ball won't go in.

Me, I dreamed I'd be in the national team,
"No need for grades to get in here",
How easy they make it sound when you have such a long last name.
You, they told you "you're going to be a superstar!",
You're just standing there looking like an idiot,
A rigged game and a sure-fire goal.

They are lethal doses of opium,
Kicks from the wealthy...
And they've fried your brain,
And the game never ends:
Juan Carlos makes a killing, so does Felipe.
And someone points at the moon,
But we all look at the finger.
He doesn't feel comfortable, he doesn't live at ease,
Your majesty is sad!

And they've fried your brain,
And the game never ends:
Juan Carlos makes a killing, so does Felipe.
And someone points at the moon,
But we all look at the finger.
He doesn't feel comfortable, he doesn't live at ease,
Your majesty is sad!
Your majesty is sad!
Your majesty is sad!
Your majesty is sad!
Your majesty...
There's a band running by the sideline, a militant band.