Ausencia de color, un tacto sin sabor, la vida se nos presenta como una tragedia inevitable, nos confronta, nos apena para volver al vacío, a la rutina indiferente, al futuro que nunca llega.
Esta es la generación impersonal. El hombre murió. Fue minado, lo absurdo acabo con los horizontes que orientaron sus pasos. En la noche más larga, el día nunca llego. Rogamos por el sol, nos dieron más noche.
Vivimos un dolor sin llanto, un amor sin llama. Acostumbrados a calcinarnos en soles ajenos, construimos tradiciones, riqueza y pobreza son naturales, el mundo nunca fue un muro más infranqueable...
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Lyrics:
Absence of color, a touch with no taste, life is present to us as an inevitable tragedy, confront us, distresses us to bring us back to the void, to the indifferent routine, to the future that never comes.
This is the impersonal generation. Man is dead. It was mined, the absurdity destroyed the horizonts that guided its steps.
We live a pain with no cry, a love with no fire. Used to burn us with suns from others, we construct traditions, wealth & poverty are natural, the world never was such as very impassable wall
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