Someone is weeping low, far far away
As the sun is bleeding slowly at the break of day
The silence is a shroud all creased around
Someone is weeping low, there’s no other sound.
How can people manage to face the day
As the past drags them down and the future hauls them away
Cheating themselves up with some fancy hope
Staying in the saddle for sex, God and dope.
I get lost in a picture I keep on the wall
As the early birds are singing out about it all
There are Mexican skeletons riding horses in the sun
When you are not scared to Death, in the end it’s quite fun.
Segùn su custumbre, el sol
Brilla y muere, muere y brilla
Y en el patio, como ayer,
Hay una luna amarilla.