1. |
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Lo que tienes en tus manos
Es la expectación, la expectación
Mas hermosa de los atendidos
Símbolos
que dialogan sin reconocer
Síntomas
Y prisas eternas
Congregar, el ritual
Sobre piedras y azúcar.
Vas, temblando
Avanzas, sin descanso.
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2. |
ZAT - Amaranto
03:15
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Piedras sobre la sal
Mi venganza, no perdonar
Entras en trafico
bajo este pánico
Al promediar tus ánimos
con el afán
de alimentar
tus trágicos, amarantos.
Yo no te quiero mas atar
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3. |
ZAT - Clientes
03:50
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Clientes en un hueco
Ahogados en la capital
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4. |
ZAT - Monstruos
03:57
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Instrumental
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5. |
Danza del ayer
02:09
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Para qué responder al temor, sedándonos
Capullo cubriendo, tus manos ardieron
Verte escribir en un papel la danza del ayer.
Siento que hoy puedo ponerme de pie,
Intentaré seguir tus pasos otra vez.
Al atardecer
Bajo un suelo de hojas que me evita florecer
¿Qué me hace fabricar?
¿Qué me hace colectar?
¿Qué me hace espigar?
¿Qué me hace germinar?
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6. |
Las Armas
02:54
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Todo se hundió en el sótano
Cuando la historia se quebraba en dos
Se derrumbó en mi interior
Buscando contener este rencor, un segundo
Buscar detener todas las voces
Que me han de instigar a tomar las armas
Por qué aceptar colgar de su soga, jamás podré estar en paz
Si disparan otra bala, no podré aguantar
Si disparan otra bala, te siento en el sonido de nuestro tiempo
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7. |
Pacto
02:39
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La presión, floreció
Un torso y en sangre cubierta la sábana
No existe un plano más amplio, que rasgarlo en pedazos.
¿Qué vas a hacer con tu seguridad?
Si sigues usando palabras
Sigues usando personas
Usas mi puño para modelar
La distancia, radicar
La vitrina, revelar
El círculo está sellado, tejieron una prisión
En el cuerpo, fragmentos
Paradigma discordante, incita la inflexión
En el cuerpo, fragmentos
En mi está el pacto que intento desterrar
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8. |
Surco
02:11
|
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Soñamos vivir en silencio, cautivos
Engendramos la indecisión, me cegó
Me apartó de tu camino
Fue la sombra en mí La ambición, el abismo
Fue la sombra en mí, construyó el fin de un ciclo
Hijo de ladrón, hijo de ladrón
Cruza el surco, roba el viento
Fue la sombra en mí,construyó el fin de un ciclo
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9. |
Weekend at the park
03:38
|
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It happened on a very nice Sunday afternoon. The fear, the shame, the hunger and the pain flooded his eyes. Step by step he crossed the street, we shared the sidewalk, our eyes met, his lips moved, shivering, and the words that came out wounded him much more than me: "give me half of the money." His hand under the hoodie, even though there's nothing there to scare me besides his gaunt body and the absurdity of this scene. So I ask you: what is violence? A desperate assault as a last resort or a life destroyed by your greed?
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10. |
Pariah
03:23
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It could have been just like life should be but it ended being just another teenage fever. White, male, straight, elitist, sexist, cis, capitalist. A spectacle of raised fists, empty words and carbon copies. So, when you called me a pariah, you could not be more correct. It is a fact: I do not belong, I am out of step with it. But Phill, my friend, you can be sure that it is true to me what you once told me and on my chest I will always carry: a protest song is a song that is so specific that you cannot mistake it for bull shit.
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11. |
A reminder
01:22
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Please, do not mistake autonomy for individualism.
Individualism says I live in a box. Says I have a worldview that is a reaction to the other. Says I am so reactive that I shut me in my own self. Says I carve my own grades and praise my own mirrors. There, in my comfortable box, I build me beautifully for myself. Says I am gorgeous and who contradicts me is wrong. Everyone around are threats. So I stay in my box. Nobody is good enough for me to get out of myself. I do not need anyone but me.
On the other hand, autonomy says there is no box. Says there is no grid or mirror, because there is no projection. Honestly, it says, neither I exist. I am free not for not needing anyone, but for having overcome my own desires. Thus, I am free from the main prison: myself. Free to be whatever I want, however I want, with whomever I want. Join me the ones who celebrate not me, not her/himself, not us, but the eternal path of liberation. Everyone around me are lovers. Not of me, but lovers of the love we are when in union.
I do not need anything, because I can embrace it all.
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12. |
All our nine elevens
05:25
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Those who filled you with fear, what they had left when they went away? They cared you when you were in pain? They made you wiser or made you stronger? They quieted your cold, your hunger, your lack of love? Or just left you there with this wait for something that will never come, this stormladen cloud that never rains, this shadow that does not let the sun come in? I will not lie to you: from uncertainty there is no escape, there is no security that does not fade, there is no bridge that does not swing with our weight. The path is made of fear and walking is overcoming it, just like the bridge only connects what it was and what it will be after we cross it. Those who walk feel the fear. Some fall and never get up, but only those who try to cross the bridge get to the other side. You can stay still, like the ones that had abandoned you long time ago wanted you to, or you can cross it. If you want it, we go together.
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