More songs by Funzo
Description
Sometimes the past smells not of memories, but of a speaker pouring out a song, and suddenly - bang - it's 2018 all over again. The same heat, the same foolish courage, the same eternal youth, until melancholy kicks in on repeat. And it seems like everything is over, but no - inside, that same track is still playing, where happiness sounded a little false and love seemed eternal. Only now, instead of kisses, there is a glass and nostalgia in three beats. It's funny, painful, and somehow kind.
Lyrics and translation
Original
Sonaba Sad Trap en to'a la playlist que te hacía la bici reventá', pero aun así te recogía los viernes.
Tú tienes la culpa si muero de melancolía.
Yo te juro que quiero olvidarlo, pero no todavía. Yo no quería saber na' de ti.
Tú y yo, lo saben estos locos, dos jovenes para siempre. Solo iba a ser un demasiado alcohol, pero no todavía.
Pido que le jodan esta noche. Tú costabas pan, mi niña. Mi mente ve rota de colores.
Que le follen al amor un rato.
Me puede la melancolía si miro pa' atrás, borracho y nostálgico escuchando jazz. Y es que tú me lo decías que me iba a doler.
¿Por qué coño jodo todo cuando todo va bien? Nos faltó tanto, sobraba el tiempo.
Si te digo que a ti ya no te lloro, te miento.
La hija de puta de mi mente sabe cómo hacerme daño recordándome momentos.
Porque ayer soñé que te veía otra vez del 2018, cuando todo el reguetón me sonaba a ti.
Dos niñatos to' locos.
Yo seré un charón, pero tú, tú tienes la culpa si muero de melancolía.
Yo te juro que quiero olvidarlo, pero no todavía. Yo no quería saber na' de ti.
Tú y yo, lo saben estos locos, dos jovenes para siempre. Solo iba a ser un demasiado alcohol, pero no todavía.
Pido que le jodan esta noche. Tú costabas pan, mi niña. Mi mente ve rota de colores.
Que le follen al amor.
Porque ayer soñé que te veía otra vez del 2018, cuando todo el reguetón me sonaba a ti.
Dos niñatos to' locos.
English translation
Sad Trap was playing on every playlist that made your bike burst, but I still picked you up on Fridays.
It's your fault if I die of melancholy.
I swear I want to forget it, but not yet. I didn't want to know anything about you.
You and me, these crazy people know it, two young people forever. It was just going to be too much alcohol, but not yet.
I pray you fuck him tonight. You cost bread, my girl. My mind sees broken colors.
Let love be fucked for a while.
I feel melancholy if I look back, drunk and nostalgic, listening to jazz. And you told me that it was going to hurt.
Why the hell do I screw up everything when everything is going well? We lacked so much, there was plenty of time.
If I tell you that I no longer cry for you, I'm lying to you.
The son of a bitch in my mind knows how to hurt me by reminding me of moments.
Because yesterday I dreamed that I saw you again from 2018, when all the reggaeton sounded like you.
Two crazy kids.
I may be a charón, but you, you are to blame if I die of melancholy.
I swear I want to forget it, but not yet. I didn't want to know anything about you.
You and me, these crazy people know it, two young people forever. It was just going to be too much alcohol, but not yet.
I pray you fuck him tonight. You cost bread, my girl. My mind sees broken colors.
Fuck love.
Because yesterday I dreamed that I saw you again from 2018, when all the reggaeton sounded like you.
Two crazy kids.