At The Parallel
He stands by the doors of the Rex all night
Chain-smoking Celtas
His eyes trouble more than one woman
His voice is heavy and deep
There's dirt on the sidewalk
And the newsboy yell
Nothing ever changes at the Parallel
Nothing ever changes at the Parallel
There 's a girl at the Molino
She wears a leather coat
The dust of Barcelona
Sticks to her heals as she walks
Trough the door
And he thinks: "What the hell
does she come here for?
Maybe she wants me, and that's
her way to say it?
Maybe she wants me, and that's
her way to say it?
Maybe she wants me, but who am I to tell?
He bites his fingernails
Scratches his eyebrows
Lights another cigarette
Watching the queens of the street
Acting their parody of love
And he feels like he stands by the gates of hell
Nothing ever changes at the Parallel
Nothing ever changes at the Parallel
That girl from the Molino
Who wears the leather coat
Sits there rockin' slowly on a chair
Gazing dreamly at the door
And he thinks: "What the hell
is she looking for?
Maybe she wants me, and that's
her way to say it?
Maybe she wants me, and that's
her way to say it?
Maybe she wants me, but who am I to tell?"
No Paralelo
Ele fica na porta do Rex a noite toda
Fumando Celtas sem parar
Seus olhos incomodam mais de uma mulher
Sua voz é pesada e profunda
Tem sujeira na calçada
E o jornaleiro grita
Nada nunca muda no Paralelo
Nada nunca muda no Paralelo
Tem uma garota no Molino
Ela usa um casaco de couro
A poeira de Barcelona
Gruda nos calcanhares enquanto ela anda
Pela porta
E ele pensa: "Que diabos
ela veio fazer aqui?
Talvez ela me queira, e essa é
a forma dela de dizer?
Talvez ela me queira, e essa é
a forma dela de dizer?
Talvez ela me queira, mas quem sou eu pra dizer?
Ele morde as unhas
Coça as sobrancelhas
Acende outro cigarro
Observando as rainhas da rua
Fazendo sua paródia do amor
E ele se sente como se estivesse na porta do inferno
Nada nunca muda no Paralelo
Nada nunca muda no Paralelo
Aquela garota do Molino
Que usa o casaco de couro
Senta lá balançando devagar numa cadeira
Olhando sonhador para a porta
E ele pensa: "Que diabos
ela está procurando?
Talvez ela me queira, e essa é
a forma dela de dizer?
Talvez ela me queira, e essa é
a forma dela de dizer?
Talvez ela me queira, mas quem sou eu pra dizer?"