Infierno Musical

Wednesday, May 04, 2016

Tierra Marcada
 
Una púa invertida
atraviesa la piel de la noche
en la velocidad de la luz
los perros cavan aullidos
en carcomidos adoquines
los insectos infectan la esquinas
sobrevolando la agonía
del alumbrado público
el silencio después del grito
la claustrofobia del espacio marcado
el miedo como un frio que quema
un poste
con un cuerpo vertical
            (sin testigos)
humanidad descartable
 y de advertencia

mientras esta ciudad    cercada
          se come a sí misma

STRESSED OUT

Twenty one pilots
My name’s ‘Blurryface’ and I care what you think

Wish we could turn back time, to the good ol’ days,
When our momma sang us to sleep but now we’re stressed out.

We used to play pretend, give each other different names,
We would build a rocket ship and then we’d fly it far away,
Used to dream of outer space but now they’re laughing at our face,
Saying, “wake up, you need to make money."

Wish we could turn back time, to the good ol’ days,
When our momma says us to sleep but now we’re stressed out.