‘‘ Murmullo’’

VOICE 1: They whisper that you're not right for me, that the stones betray our steps, that I have nothing to think about when I embrace you warmly, they always find yours. They whisper that life passes you by mysteriously amidst revelry and women, that you rest in detached play, that there's something in your gaze that doesn't convince. But a friend is a friend until proven otherwise. If things are going well, there's little to fear; you don't find a friend every day. They whisper that you betray anyone, whenever it hinders your own gain, that if things go wrong, you run away, especially when your skin becomes a hindrance. They whisper that you've sworn uncertainly, as far as another's love is concerned, that you steal the sweetheart from the weakest fool, and you snatch her from the most virile man as well. But a friend is a friend until proven otherwise. If things are going well, there's little to fear; you don't find a friend every day. They whisper that you've surrendered your fate to alcohol, that you're destined to die alone, with no one to attend your wake, no human being to grieve for you. They whisper of your absurd attire, your false culture and pride, your harsh, poorly measured accent, your abnormal, almost foolish face. But a friend is a friend until proven otherwise. If things are going well, there's little to fear; you don't find a friend every day.

VOZ 1: Murmuran
que no me convienes
que las piedras delatan nuestras pasos
que doy en qué pensar cuando te abrazo
caluroso el tuyo encuentran siempre.

Murmuran que entre juergas y mujeres
la vida te transcurre misteriosa,
en juego desprendido te reposa
que hay algo en tu mirar que no convence.

Pero un amigo,
es un amigo
hasta tanto se pruebe lo contrario.
Si la cosa marcha bien
hay poco que temer,
no se consigue
un amigo a diario.

Murmuran
que traicionas a cualquiera,
siempre que tu provecho dificulte
que si va mal la cosa
huyes,
y más cuando tu piel entorpeciera.

Murmuran que has jurado inciertamente,
en cuanto a amor de otro se tratara,
que le roba la novia al más pelele,
y al más viril también se la arrebatas.

Pero un amigo,
es un amigo
hasta tanto se pruebe lo contrario.
Si la cosa marcha bien
hay poco que temer,
no se consigue
un amigo a diario.

Murmuran
que al alcohol la suerte entregas,
que sin remedio
has de morirte solo,
sin nadie que acompañe en tu velorio,
ni ser humano alguna a quien le duela.

Murmuran
de tu absurda vestimenta,
de tu falsa cultura y de tu orgullo,
de tu acento mal medido y duro,
de tu anormal y casi tonta jeta.

Pero un amigo,
es un amigo
hasta tanto se pruebe lo contrario.
Si la cosa marcha bien
hay poco que temer,
no se consigue
un amigo a diario,
si la cosa marcha bien
hay poco que temer,
no se consigue
un amigo a diario.