In the Puerta del Sol
like the year that was
again the champagne and the grapes
and the tar, they are like a carpet.
The firecrackers that They erase yesterday's sounds
and warm the mood
to accept that one more has already passed.
And in the clock of yesteryear
as from year to year year
five more minutes for the countdown.
We take stock of the good and bad
five minutes before
the countdown.
br/>Soldiers cry at night...
Sailors, soldiers, single, married,
lovers, wanderers
and some other
a clueless priest.
Among screams and whistles the little soldiers
huge, short ones we do for once
something at a time.
And in the clock of yesteryear
like from year to year
Five more minutes for the countdown.
We take stock of the good and bad
five minutes before
the countdown.
The soldiers cry at night...
And although for the grapes there are some new ones
those who are no longer here we will miss
and let's see if those of us who are alive wake up
and next year we laugh. The soldiers cry at night...
1,2,3 and 4 and it begins again
the fifth is one
and the sixth is two
and so the seven is three.
The soldiers cry at night...
And we say goodbye
and we ask God
that in the next year
let's see if instead of a million
it could be two.
Soldiers cry at night...
Soldiers cry at night...
Soldiers cry at night...< br/>In the Puerta del Sol
like the year that was
again the champagne and the grapes
and the carpet tar are there.
The soldiers cry at night...

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