More songs by Sanguijuelas del Guadiana
Description
The evening seems to weigh heavily on our shoulders, and doubt sits within it - so thick that even the priest begins to squint. The street whispers about the decline of faith, and the night lights turn misdeeds into festive garlands: stolen flowers from a sacred image become a bold, slightly crazy gift that both accuses and explains.
The narrative sounds like a confession written in the margins - without modesty, with the excitement of bargaining: to sell yourself for a minute of attention, to put your pride on the line and see who will take it. A hundred poppies are not just a bouquet, but a course of action; the rhythm of the song seems to push you to take a step that you will then have to painfully justify for the rest of your life. The whole story smells of lipstick, holy guilt and a slightly tired but persistent desire to be understood.
Lyrics and translation
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