Joaquin Sabina "Nos sobran los motivos" lyrics

Nos sobran los motivos

Este adiós no maquilla un hasta luego,este nunca no esconde un ojala,estas cenizas no juegan con fuego,este ciego no mira para atrás.Este notario firma lo que escribo,esta letra no la protestaré,ahórrate el acuse de recibo,estas vísperas son las de después.A este ruido tan huérfano de padreno voy a permitirle que taladreun corazón podrido de latir.Este pez ya no muere por tu boca,este loco se va con otra loca,estos ojos no lloran más por ti.

Esta sala de espera sin esperanza,estas pilas de un timbre q se secóeste helado de fresa de la venganzaesta empresa de mudanzacon los muebles del amor.

Esta campana mora en el campanario,esta mitad partida por la mitad,estos besos de Judas,este calvario,este look de presidiario,esta cura de humildad.

Este cambio de acera de tus caderas,estas ganas de nada menos de tíeste arrabal sin grillos en primavera,ni espaldas con cremalleras,ni anillos de presumir.

Esta casita de muñecas de alterneeste racimo de pétalos de saleste huracán sin ojos que lo gobierneneste jueves,este viernesy el miércoles q vendrá

(ESTRIBILLO)No abuses de mi inspiración,no acuses a mi corazóntan maltrecho y ajadoq está cerrado por derribo.

Por las arrugas de mi vozse filtra la desolaciónde saber q éstos sonlos últimos versos q te escribo,para decir "con Dios" a los dosnos sobran los motivos.

Este nido de pájaro disecadoeste perro andaluz sin domesticareste trono de príncipe destronadoesta espina de pescadoesta ruina de Don Juan.

Esta lágrima de hombre de las cavernasesta horma de zapato de Barba Azul,que poco rato dura la vida eternapor el túnel de tus piernas,entre Córdoba y Maipú.

Esta guitarra cínica y doloridacon su terco knock,knockin'on heaven's door,estos labios q saben a despedidaa vinagre en las heridasa pañuelo de estación

Este ladrón aparcado en tu togala rueca de Penélope en Luna Parkestos celos q sueñan q te desnudanesta caracola viudasin la pianola del mar.

(ESTRIBILLO)No abuses de mi inspiración...

We have plenty of reasons

This "good bye" isn't faking a "see you soon",this "never" is not hiding an "i hope some day",this ashes doesn't play with fire,this blind man won't look behind.

This notary signs what I'm writing,I won't take my words back,save yourself acknowledging it,this vespers are from another day. [I don't care anymore]

This nonsense noise, so orphan of a father,I won't let it to drilla hearth rotten beating for love.

This fish doesn't die anymore for your mouth,this crazy man is going with a crazy woman,this eyes will not cry anymore for you.

This waiting hall, without hope,the ran-out batteries of a door bell,this strawberry ice cream from a revenge,this moving company [furniture movers],with the furniture of love.

This bell hanging in the belfry,this half, cut into another half,this kisses from judas, this suffering,this inmate look,this test of humility.

That movement of your hip,this will for nothing, even less for youthis place without bunch of crickets in spring,nor back with zippers [back of the body],nor rings to show off.

This doll house,this bunch of flowers from saltthis hurricane without eyes to govern him,this thursday, this friday,and the wednesday that will come.

(Chorus)Don't abuse of my inspiration,don't blame my hearth,so injured and tousled,it is closed as it is demolished.

From the wrinkles of my voice,desolation/sadness is filtered,because this are,the last verses I write to you,to say "[go] with God", to the both of us,we have plenty of reasons.

This dried bird nest,this undomesticated Andalusian dog,this throne of an unthroned prince,this fishbone,this ruins of Don Juan [romantic man].

This tear of a caveman,this shoe shape of Barba Azul, [Pirate Blue Beard],so little last a "forever life",in the tunnel of your legs,between Córdoba and Maipú.

This cynical and hurted guitar,with his stubborn "knock, knockin'on heaven's door",this lips that tastes as a good byeto vinager in the wounds,to a forgotten scarf in the station.

This thief parked in your toga,the spinning wheel from Penélope in Luna Parkthis jealousy that dreams to undress youthis widow snailwithout the ocean's rythm.

(Chorus)Don't abuse of my inspiration...