The wind brings a song
Memories of a hurricane
That one day it broke my wing
And it made me fall
Until it dragged me away
Our flag was flying
In the middle of the storm
From the north the cold was killing
The skin became hard
Terror was the law
And no I forgot nothing,
That we planted illusion
In the wet pampa
That I was sweating, like me
Inevitable absence
And I didn't take off the ring
Not the sky, the Southern Cross
Not my cricket's titillation
That sings at night
Because he misses his love
And I continue washing drinks
Of people better than me
If I can, I drink the leftovers
The mixture turns me on
And I go crazy
I fantasize about the sea
Of leaving swimming
To touch you again
And I become one-armed
Hands of uselessness
I left my blood there
And today I have to invent myself
ÃÂYes, I am Argentine!
The wind brings a song
Our flag was flying
I continue washing glasses