Translate to
Rappers, hippies, punks on the tracks
Busting out Zeppelin riffs with the boys
It was always the music of our lives
Here in the neighborhood
Kiko catching one halfway with Lucía
Flirting behind the Checa between the benches
Everything was created in that cider house
From Mamen and Ricardo
Good Night Rose, the Yogurts, the Booth
Guernica, Malahierba, the Alameda
Canoe Head, OZM
Boa Mistura painting walls and trains
Removing cobwebs from the goals
We scored legendary goals with Charantos
Nobody coughed at us in all those leagues
From the outskirts
Those years, Malahierba was breaking
My cousin Vikxie made a life for herself in Brighton
I took Mario out of the police station
Dressed to the nines
To Mister, to Fer, and to Iván
I hope you rest in peace
Good Night Rose, the Yogurts, the Booth
Guernica, Malahierba, the Alameda
Canoe Head, OZM
Boa Mistura painting walls and trains
They are still my school
My origin, my flag
I can hear them howl
They will always be in my memory
They left a huge mark on me
They were years of good harvest
Pedigree of the Alameda
The years are slipping away from me
I always carry in my head
To the people of the neighborhood
View lyrics in other languages
