Songs by titleSongs by title
Songs by albumLyrics & Music: Edgar Ricardo Arjona Morales
| Quinto Piso | Fifth Floor |
| Cielo arriba, suelo abajo Pan de trigo, luz de neón Yo aquí vivo, quinto piso No consigo sonreír Y la tele es un revólver Y el vecino es un caníbal como yo Y hay tanta gente por la calle Disimulando la amargura. Hay tantos lunes que los viernes Están armando sindicatos Para acudir a la fortuna Te venden dioses novedosos. Para encontrarse la ternura Hay quien se manda una pastilla Y este septiembre tan enero Y esta sonrisa tan llorona Tanto cielo, tanta luz ¿Quién me observa desde allí? Tantos ríos, tanta sed Tanta prisa por llegar Y el futbol de los domingos Y el café que abre unos ojos que no ven Y hay tanto espacio en el espacio Y hay tanta duda en las escuelas Los mercenarios al congreso Y otro estratega es emboscado Estrofa 3 Cielo arriba, suelo abajo Pan de trigo, luz de neón |
Sky above, ground below Wheat bread, neon light I live here, fifth floor I fail to smile And the telly is a revolver And the neighbour is a cannibal like me And there are so many people on the street Hiding their bitterness. There are so many Mondays that Fridays Are forming unions In order to come into a fortune You sell new gods. In order to find tenderness There are those that demand a pill. And this September such a January And that smile such a crybaby So much sky, so much light Who watches me from there? So many rivers, so much thirst So much haste to arrive And Sunday football And the coffee that opens a few eyes that do not see And there is so much space in space And there is so much doubt in schools Mercenaries in Congress And another strategist is ambushed Verse 3 Sky above, ground below Wheat bread, neon light |