1:30 Lyrics English Translation by Mon Laferte
After masturbating for an hour
Thinkin’ about the multitude of fake orgasms
What a goddamn failure
What a bitch to deserve this punishment
I dragged myself to the bread and egg and spilled a couple of tears
I thought about the Industrial Revolution
“What changed the social structure,” the history teacher used to say
While I rubbed “One Hundred Love Sonnets” from between my legs
Mechanized, no one was ever more of a motor than me at my desk
Back then, the epilogues would dilate for me
Drool sprouting from me, pragmatic of the surf
In those years I was the comandanta
I mounted my own flesh with militarized authority
“Caravan of death” they said on the TV
And I was dying to join the carnival
That the history teacher had under his pants
I knew it quite well
From the shadow on the khaki, I was the president
I’d better stop thinking about the nectar and continue with the bread and egg
“What a common food for this hotel luxury,” I thought
What a fucking disease this anti-anxiety pill
I depended on it so much that on the earring
I asked it to come inside me
I had more fun when I got mugged
And yes, I went back to the vice, with a drum roll
I got dressed better, “This isn’t making love,” I thought
It seems more like a heavy metal
Every man I’ve slept with
Has fallen in love with her and woken up with me
But the day of my death
The day of my death I will leave in first class
And they will throw a party of wailing because they will finally see me with white eyes
It will be a magnanimous wedding, my father will be there and my pedifigures
And millions with daddy issues will sprout from the sky
I have a coffee, suddenly it rains, but not with the desire I want
This mediocrity, the humidity, reminds me of its good morning kiss
My favorite weather is sex
Speaking of genitalicides, I composed a song
About the complicated foreign relations of a woman in the everydayness of abuse
Me as the immoral attaché, diplomatically in the main verse
While I cried, while I cried
While I cried, while I remembered
While I blamed myself, I recited
I vomited as if such an act would clean my crotch
I washed myself a hundred and fifty-eight times with soap and holy water
There were a hundred and fifty-eight stab wounds, I felt them while it breathed on my neck
I think it lasted about a minute and a half, but it felt like a whole death
The next day I went to school, I let out the hem of my uniform
I ate bread with jam for breakfast, in history class they talked about the conquest