More songs by Mala Rodríguez
Description
Composer, vocalist, author: Mala Rodríguez
Producer: Andrés Campo
Author, composer: René David Cano Ríos (Bulnen)
Composer: Juan David Molina (Tuny D)
Writer: Andrea Dury
Writer: Eudis Ruiz
Lyrics and translation
Original
Una cascabel no me deja de joder.
Me busca, sí encuentra, no sale así entra. Veneno y yo miedo. Uh, uh, yeah.
Cansada de la calle.
Ahora solo quiero amor de verdad. Ay, por favor, no me falles.
Prefiero no volver a empezar. Cansada de la calle.
Ahora solo quiero amor de verdad. Ay, por favor, no me falles.
Prefiero no volver a empezar.
Cansada del pogo, del desacato, de tanto gato bonito, de tantas citas que saben a poco, de tanto juego que acaban en na', de tanta foto, de tanto hablar, de tanto toca, de tanta vuelta en la moto como dos locos, sin casco, sin cuarto, sin coco, sin tener nunca donde ya parar.
Esos silencios a hora temprana, despedida arriesgada. Después de tanta saliva, explicaciones no sirven de na'.
No recibe mis llamadas y yo sigo mojada. Volveré a ese lugar y haré otra salvada.
Una más, no pasa na'.
Antes de dar una vueltita y olvidar lo que fue perfecto sin decirnos hasta ahorita. No sé si estoy prepará, pero acepto una jugada.
Amor y odio es lo que da. Amor y odio es lo que quita. Nadie quiere la verdad.
Preferimos la bendita. ¿Hasta cuándo durará?
No te esperes, que es bien bonita la ilusión de tener algo que desaparecerá. Volveré a ese lugar y haré otra salvada.
Sin sangre en las venas me volví más buena. No digo más nada, que luego eso quema.
Canciones, poemas y lunas llenas. Mi mamá me dijo: "No corras, que luego se olvidan de ti".
El silencio se apodera de mi forma de vivir. Cansada de la calle.
English translation
A rattle won't stop bothering me.
He looks for me, he does find me, he doesn't come out that way he comes in. Poison and I fear. Uh, uh, yeah.
Tired of the street.
Now I just want real love. Oh, please don't fail me.
I prefer not to start over. Tired of the street.
Now I just want real love. Oh, please don't fail me.
I prefer not to start over.
Tired of the pogo, of the disrespect, of so many pretty cats, of so many dates that are worthless, of so much play that ends in nothing, of so many photos, of so much talking, of so much touching, of so many rides on the motorcycle like two crazy people, without a helmet, without a room, without a coconut, without ever having a place to stop.
Those silences at an early hour, a risky farewell. After so much saliva, explanations are of no use.
He doesn't receive my calls and I'm still wet. I'll go back to that place and make another save.
One more, nothing happens.
Before taking a walk and forgetting what was perfect without telling us until now. I don't know if I'm ready, but I accept a move.
Love and hate is what gives. Love and hate is what takes away. Nobody wants the truth.
We prefer the blessed one. How long will it last?
Don't wait, the illusion of having something that will disappear is very nice. I'll go back to that place and make another save.
Without blood in my veins I became better. I don't say anything else, because then it burns.
Songs, poems and full moons. My mother told me: "Don't run, they'll forget about you later."
Silence takes over my way of living. Tired of the street.