Songs by titleSongs by title
Songs by albumLyrics & Music: Edgar Ricardo Arjona Morales
| Iluso | Fool |
| Era un jueves gris. Llovía. «Pídeme un remís,» decía. En el lobby de un hotel barato Viene de rentar su piel un rato Con la algarabía del deber cumplido Acrobacias del placer fingido. Un orgasmo de alquiler, con ruidos. Pone boca en su carmín escaso. Arañando el adoquín, sus pasos. «¿Quién tiene algo para la nariz?» pregunta «¿Podría ser de utilidad mi pañuelo?» Disfracé de ingenuidad, mi anzuelo. «Algo para no dormir, idiota. Si me das, podrías pedir mi ropa.» «¿Donde encuentro nieve pa'l desvelo, ahora?» «Creo que cien podría ajustar. ¿Te animas?» «Mi depa está al cruzar la esquina. Estoy solo como tú, fulana. Te invito a estrenar la luz, mañana. No te quiero pa' desarreglar la cama» Coro: «No es lo que haces con tu boca, mi muñeca rota Lo que solicito. Te puedes dejar la ropa, mi muñeca rota No la necesito No es mojar la calentura, ahogar en tu cintura Lo que ando buscando. Es un poco de ternura para ver si cura Lo que estoy pasando» Dijo «si» y sin sonreír… «Camina» «Dime si el sexo sin placer te enciende.» «Sólo si el cliente es mujer. ¿Entiendes?» Disimulando, argumente «Está claro. No te creas que me parece raro. Cada quien su gusto y su pasión,» le dije «¿Te podría sujetar la mano?» «Dame cien para empezar y hablamos.» Los busqué en mi pantalón y nada. Fui debajo del colchón y estaban. Se los di como quien compra un par de alas Coro Miró el buró y sin sonreír… «¡Momento!» «Si es tu ex la del buró, no hay trato.» Con su mano, señaló el retrato. «¿La conoces?» pregunté, confuso. «Fue por mí quien te dejó, iluso» |
It was a grey Thursday. It was raining. “Call me a taxi,” she was saying. In the lobby of a cheap hotel She is returning from renting her skin for a while With the satisfaction of a mission accomplished Acrobatics of feigned pleasure. An orgasm for rent, with noises. She puts her mouth on her scanty lipstick. Scratching the pavement, her footsteps. “Who has something for my nose?” she asks “Could my handkerchief be of use?” I disguised my bait with naivety. “Something so as not to sleep, idiot. If you give me [something], you could ask for my clothes.” “Where can I find snow for sleeplessness, now?” “I think that a hundred might settle it. Are you interested?” “My apartment is around the corner. I am alone like you, tart. I invite you to see the first light, tomorrow. I do not want you for messing up the bed” Chorus: “It is not what you do with your mouth, my broken doll What I am asking for. You can leave your clothes on, my broken doll I do not need them It is not to quench my desire, to drown in your waist What I am seeking. It is a bit of tenderness (in order) to see if it cures What I am going through” She said “Yes” and without smiling… “Walk” “Tell me if sex without pleasure turns you on.” “Only if the client is a woman. Do you understand?” Hiding my feelings, I explain “It is clear. Do not think that it seems strange to me. Each to their own taste and passion,” I told her “May I hold your hand?” “Give me a hundred to begin with and we can talk.” I searched for it in my trousers and nothing. I went below the mattress and there it was. I gave it to her like someone buying a pair of wings Chorus She looked at the desk and without smiling… “Just a minute!” “If the one on the desk is your ex, there is no deal.” With her hand, she pointed out the portrait. “Do you know her?” I asked, confused. “The one she left you for was me, fool” |