That Guy

Gris mañana del jueves,recuerdo viejos tiempos,nostalgia es lo q siento,algo me conmueve...vuelven a mi memoria el patio el instituto,y un adolescente muy lejos de ser adulto.muchos duros inviernos me alejan de aquel chico,su unica preocupacion,cazar chochitos...yo he grabado un lp,algo con lo que el soñaba,pero apuesto a que era mucho mas feliz,no se...y esque todo era mas facil para aquel chico rebelde,idealista pero todavia muy verde...todo era mas grande,no se si me entiendes,se flipaba con nada,a mi ya nada me sorprende.y aunque dudaba en detalles insignificantes,siempre tuvo claras las cosas importantes..testarudo,consejos jamas seguia,tropezaba y caia,si asi aprendia.pequeño gamberro,mas bien mal estudiante,a menudo en clase dejaba el sitio bacante.la calle su otra escuela,si materia el arte urbano,pintaba en todas partes su apodo,taker en mano.siempre habia juerga,aunque no tuviese un duro,y solo conocia de lejos el lado oscuro.si entraba ciego a casa intentaba disimular,que inocente!nunca fueron tontos sus papas...

Estribillo:no lo puedes evitar,siempre miras al pasado,y aunq pueda parecer igual todo ha cambiado (bis)

Fin de semana,ganas de marcha,de fiesta,loco por salir al centro en busca d emocion.no siempre lograba juntar suficiente pasta,pues nada,las maketas,al loro,y un botellon.con su gente en el parke bebiendo...montando bulla..q emocionante escapar de un coche patrulla.primeros conflictos con los señores agentes..verdes o azules casi todos incompetentes.aquel chico impulsivo actuaba sin pensar,pecaba de meterse en problemas de los demas.por no morder su lengua,llevose algun disgusto,era incapaz de callar si algo no era justo.cuantas historias,en todas partes conocido.cuanta importancia le daba a tristes enemigos...guerras estupidas hoy suenan divertidas,no se como pero siempre metido en movidas.cuantos labios de niñas beso,a cuantas engaño.famoso cabron d corazones ladron.eran princesas del cuento de cada fin de semana,reinas del parque o del bar,gozar,sin acabar en cama.machito orgulloso,y que mas daba quedar bien,si claro.."dame tu numero..el de tu amiga tambien!" y tras su actitud de chulo habia un ser sensible,quizas demasiado bueno y algo susceptible.

Estribillo

Nervioso,hiperactivo,n podia estar parado.apenas dormia y jamas estaba cansado,los videojuegos llenaban sus noches a diario,los dias no existian, no importaba el calendario.importana el reloj,temprano en casa o castigado,cuantas ravietas,a veces se sentia atado,que ironia,verdad? te parecera increible,hoy dia le envidio,sueño con ser tan libre.

Cuanta ilusion,en cuantas cosas creia...la vida es dura,pero el todavia no lo sabia.y esque al abrir los ojos todo es de otro color,hoy siento que cualquier tiempo pasado fue mejor.aquel chico feliz tuvo que madurar deprisa,el viento y las tormentas borraron su sonrisa.no se muy bie cual es la razon...no se x ke al pisar viejos lugares se me encoje el corazon.

No puedo evitar mirar hacia attras, y aunque pueda parecerlo,nada es igual(nada),noto otro ambiente,aromas diferentes,donde se fue toda esa gente?(donde?)todos sentimos alguna vez melancolia..tres wiskis,un polvo y adios a la tonteria!

No lo puedes evitar,siempre miras al pasado y aunque pueda parecer igual..todo ha cambiado.no podras recuperar lo que el tiempo te ha robado,solo queda recordar,hoy que el dia esta nublado...

Gray Thursday morning, I remember old times, nostalgia is what I feel, something moves me... memories come back to me, the schoolyard, the high school, and a teenager far from being an adult. Many harsh winters distance me from that guy, his only concern, chasing girls... I recorded an album, something he dreamed of, but I bet he was much happier, I don't know... everything was easier for that rebellious, idealistic but still very green guy... everything was bigger, I don't know if you understand me, he got excited about nothing, nothing surprises me anymore. And although he hesitated on insignificant details, he always had clear the important things... stubborn, never followed advice, he stumbled and fell, that's how he learned. A little troublemaker, more of a bad student, often left his seat vacant in class. The street was his other school, with urban art as his subject, he painted his nickname, marker in hand. There was always a party, even if he had no money, and he only knew the dark side from afar. If he came home drunk, he tried to hide it, how innocent! His parents were never fools... Chorus: you can't help it, you always look to the past, and although it may seem the same, everything has changed (repeat). Weekend, craving to go out, partying, crazy to go downtown in search of excitement. He didn't always manage to gather enough money, so nothing, the sketches, be alert, and a big drinking session. With his people in the park drinking... making noise... how exciting to escape from a police car. First conflicts with the officers... green or blue, almost all incompetent. That impulsive guy acted without thinking, he sinned by getting involved in other people's problems. For not holding his tongue, he got into trouble, he couldn't stay silent if something wasn't fair. How many stories, known everywhere. How much importance he gave to sad enemies... stupid wars now sound funny, I don't know how, but always involved in trouble. How many girls' lips he kissed, how many he deceived. Famous heart-stealing bastard. They were princesses of the weekend fairy tale, queens of the park or the bar, enjoying without ending up in bed. Proud macho, and what did it matter to look good, of course... 'give me your number... your friend's too!' and behind his tough attitude, there was a sensitive being, perhaps too good and somewhat sensitive. Chorus. Nervous, hyperactive, couldn't stand still. Barely slept and never tired, video games filled his nights daily, days didn't exist, the calendar didn't matter. Always checking the clock, early at home or grounded, how many tantrums, sometimes he felt tied down, what irony, right? you might find it unbelievable, nowadays I envy him, I dream of being so free. How much excitement, how many things he believed in... life is tough, but he still didn't know. And when he opened his eyes, everything was a different color, today I feel that any past time was better. That happy guy had to grow up fast, the wind and storms erased his smile. I don't really know the reason... I don't know why stepping into old places makes my heart ache. I can't help but look back, and although it may seem like it, nothing is the same (nothing), I sense a different atmosphere, different scents, where did all those people go? (where?) we all feel melancholy at some point... three whiskeys, a fling, and goodbye to nonsense! You can't help it, you always look to the past, and although it may seem the same... everything has changed. You won't be able to recover what time has stolen from you, all that's left is to remember, today that the day is cloudy...