Lucio Arce Website

Tuesday, January 08, 2008



El pibe nos va a salvar (track #1)

© Lucio Arce

I have a kid who steps on it, kneads it, shines with it
More than a promise. he’s already a reality
And with all that future, I won’t have to work
Even though he’s only twelve, you should see how he plays with it
This Monday, early in the morning, I’ll take him to the Capital
He’ll live every kids dream, he’ll play in Boca or River
And in Spain or in Italy we will strike it rich

You listen to me, this is how it is,
Let me handle it
We’re going straight to Madrid
I can see him stepping onto the Bernabeu
You’ll see lean times ending
When the kid steps into the box
And the stands start to cheer
And tell the butcher we’ll pay him later
Because any day now,
The kid is going to save us!

You keep him healthy, lots of beef and spaghetti
Afterwards, he’ll watch videos of Diego in the national team
Then I’ll take him to the park to juggle the ball for a while
With the cloth ball I made with my old underwear
Hold on, be patient, if money is short
This is our hope, he’s got the soul of a champion
Soon you’ll see when the world screams “ole”
This kid with his goals is export quality

You listen to me, this is how it is,
Let me handle it
We’re going straight to Rome
To Milan or Barcelona or the Athletic
You’ll see lean times ending
When the kid steps into the box
And the stands start to cheer
And tell the grocer we’ll pay him later
Because I know that some day,
The kid is going to save us!

El incomplé (track #2)

© Lucio Arce

They call you the Uncomple
Because you never finsh anythi
Everything you sta
Is always half way don

You get up early in the morn
To go to the offi
But you don’t finish anythi
You leave at noo
You like to sing son
And you think you are Garde
But in the first vers
You forget the lyri
You like to tell jok
And you think you are funn
But you forget the punch li
You have such a bad memo

Like last Sund
Walking down the aven
5pm in the afternoo
we went to a coffee sho
you said you were treati
coffee and croiss
but you left without payi
making me look like a foo
You like to play poke
But you fol
When you have a good han

You put your pants o
Without any underwe
When you’re riding on the bu
Don’t your balls get stick?


Every time you go to the bathroo
You never flush the toi
You walk away nonchala
Leaving a horrible sme
If you go to play socc
You leave at half tim
Without feeling any guil
You leave the team a player sho
And when we go to the movi
We see half the pictu
Is it that you’re a little craz
Or maybe you ate pain?

I hope that this hab
Is not contaigeou
And if there’s any vacci
I’m going to get a sho
I’m a very busy ma
With many responsibilit
And so I have to put an en
To this son
I hope it’s been of your liki
With this one I say farewe
But first I ask you a favo
Sing along this melod

They call you the Uncomple
Because you never finsh anythi
Everything you sta
Is always half way don
And that is why the bo
Call you the Uncomple
They know you in the neighborhoo
They recognize you from afa
When you’re coming down the stree
Before turning the corne
The neighbo are whisperi
“Isn’t the the Uncomple?”
Your case has no cur
The call you the Uncomple

Azul melancolía (track #3)

© Lucio Arce

It rains in Buenos Aires
As it melancholic blue curtain drops
In the architecture
Angels that augur
To protect my sleep and my dreams

A sweet voice sings in the dark
Coming to me from the past
Mi city moon
The lullaby
The river that rocked my heart to sleep

A street lamp burns
Guardian of the night and hope
Eyes of love
Morning star of a new dawn
The water whistles in the kettle

The rain washes off the balcony
As it falls it rinses my nostalgia
My eyes get misty
She’s with me
The remembrance of her never faded away
The collection
Of so many memories of my childhood
Song of love
Albums that keep her fragrance
Dance to the the beat of a tango

El hijo del diputado (track #4)

© Lucio Arce

Who has seen him and who sees
The son of the representative
Similing on tv
With his shinny shoes
That one never went to work
He’s a certified lazy bum
He’s a professional
son of a representative
In his lapel a carnation
Of his cheap nobility
Masking his low deeds
Looking around with disdain
The jerk believes
He’s one of the privileged ones
The son of the representative
Expecting to be taken care of

Where does the son of the representative
get the money?
Always wearing fancy clothes
Looking high class
I read in a magazine
Things I don’t understand
That he feeds sirloin stakes
To his german shepherd
He parades himself like a peacock
Around the hot nightspots
Always hanging out in parties
With his occassional friends
And I learned from a good source
That in his long nights of partying
He spends in two hours
What factory worker earns in a month

What a son…
What a son…
What a son of representative

Flan with cream and an expresso
For the son of the representative
Nicely banqueted
And close table twentythree
What a miserable bastard
He barely left any tip
If I cross him in the corner
I broke him in fortythree
There’s ten pesos for whoever
Knocks out the sovereing jerk
And national disgrace
with a good punch
Because he thinks he’s better than everybody
for his arrogance
Kick him in the butt
Right out of the premises


Esperando un balazo (track #5)

© Lucio Arce

I don’t know how I got into this
I swear I’m an honest guy
Who never ever hurt anyone
And now they want to hit me with a pipe
After the incident of the report
Someone high up gave the order
I’m petrified with fear
Because I’m expecting a bullet

The information I have is my doom
And I need to erase myself from the scene
Those who are after me are heavyweights
Big fishes are involved in this one
I don’t want to come out to the surface
Although paranoia is driving me out my mind
Because as soon as I stick my nose out
Outside a bullet is waiting for me

Because I didn’t heed the warnings
They look at me as if giving me condolences
You can tell rumors are spreading
Today I received a wreath of flowers
That’s why if you see me, don’t say hello
Don’t come near, don’t try to help me
Cross the street and don’t follow my steps
Because I’m expecting a bullet

Blues del sur (track #6)

© Lucio Arce

Blue tango
Blues from the south
In the corner of a neon bar
It’s Paris
New York
It’s La Boca, Uruguay and Japan
It’s Mexico, Madrid
It’s Havanna, Berlin
It’s a “paisa” (*) singing away in Medellin
The nostalgia of being
Away from your place
And suddenly hearing Gardel

(*) Paisa: Native from the province of Antioquia, Colombia.

Pedime lo que quieras (track #7)

©Lucio Arce

You can borrow anything you want, you I’m your friend
If you need money, just tell me how much
Do you need the car, the the camera
Talk to me with confidence, that’s all you need to do
I lend you my guitar, also the blender
I lend you my wife, if that is what you need
But there’s a limit to everything, because you know, brother
There’s one thing I’ll never lend you

My Gardel records, no
I don’t lend my Carlitos’ records
My Gardel records, no
Some things I’m not willing to do
My Gardel records, no
Let me be clear, once and for all
My Carlitos’ records I won’t lend you
It’s my last answer and stop bothering me
Before Elvis, before Sinatra,
Argentina gave the world its best voice.

The day that you want to borrow those records
It will be my sad night of bittereness and rancor
There in the old neighborhood and in the flowered road
Whistling their silence the blonds from New York
The one who came back one night, the thief and farabute
They’ll call you little paper lamp
And along the little road, put the mandolin in the bag
Like the swallows,
To never ever …

(*) This last verse is composed by the titles in Spanish of 17 songs recorded by Gardel. Unfortunately, the fun is lost in the translation.

Por complacerte (track #8)

© Lucio Arce

You asked me to change
And I changed just to please you
Only for my eagerness to see you
Content, joyful and happy
I changed all my wardrobe
And started dressing up in suits
And removing the tattoo
Left a scar right here
Because you asked me
I cut my hair with no complaints
The earring flew from the ear
As did the one in my nose
And I stopped frequenting
Those dark neighborhoods
And learned good manners
Just because you asked
And all for what
If after I changed
You changed me for someone else
You are so ungrateful, I did it for you
And now you’re throwing me away
I learned my lesson well, though it cost me
And eye and half the other
I wanted to please you, how was I to know
You were changing me for someone else

Because you asked me
I stop seeing the old gang
And even got a suit and suitcase job
Because you asked me
I betrayed my conscience
And suffered the consequences
Alone and sad in my room
Too late did I realised
Your infamous jibberish
I confess, I was a fool (actually, “a salami’)
I saw a piece of bread and took a dive
I changed to please you
And even though it was a hard blow
I assured you, I learned my lesson well
And it won’t happen to me again

EL PIBE DELIVERY (track #10)

© Lucio Arce

Crossing the night like an arrow
There goes the delivery boy on his motorbike
Rollingstone fan like sneakers, helmet on his head
Daring streetlights with supple wrist

In his rowdy wake, silence explodes
Open exhaust pipe, machine gun engine
Drilling the peace of the tennats,
The dreams of the neighbors lay shattered in ruins

Mercy! Mercy!
Mercy for the delivery boy!
Mercy, gentlemen, mercy!
For the delivery boy, I ask for mercy!

His nerves of steel, his skill, his audacity
Were no match for his disgrace
Among so many lights, his eyes didn’t see
A violent bus crossing on red

The ambulance arrived, among the confusion
And the sad gesture of that broken body
Bounty of a street person who walked by
Six were meat, six were ham and cheese (*)

Mercy! Mercy!
Mercy for the delivery boy!
Mercy, ma’am mercy!
For the delivery boy, I ask for mercy!

(*) Reference to empanadas, the typical Argentine turnover filled with meat, cheese, etc; regularly delivered by these young men.

Cartas a Marta (track #11)

©Lucio Arce

I’ve written so many letters to Martha
I don’t know why she takes so long in responding
I’ve written so many letters to Martha
Maybe she’s fed up
And she won’t be coming back
I’ve written so many letters to Martha
That she discards, martyrizing me
I beg of you, Mr. Postman
Just deliver this letter for my beloved one

A terrible doubt assaults me
Because I miss her
And I can’t live anymore
Makes my heart break
If Martha doesn’t want to open
My letters anymore
I’ve written so many letters to Martha
And now, I’m going to write her another one
Because loving Martha so much
Gives me a stroke
Not even the sea will cover my suffering

Note: the silly cacophony of this lyryc is lost in translation. In the Spanish original lyric, twice, the name Martha is composed by the last syllable of one word and the first of the next one.

La última molleja (track #12)

©Lucio Arce

A dog that roams around
Trying to get a bone
Two fingers of thick red wine
Where a cigarette butt floats
Charred, dry and complainsless
sad and lonely on the grill
Over the warm embers
Lies the last piece of sweetbread

Chinchulin (*), blood sausage,
chorizo sausage came and went
even one that fell on the ground
became part of the big feast
Ribs, sirloin came and went
Salads flew by
the burnt sweetbread
was left forgotten

Now her sorrow has no consolation
Almond ice cream is here, so is flan with cream
And in the brutal abandonment that besets her
The last piece of sweetbread
Just lied there

Little grill bound gland
Brainlike consistency
They don’t love you for your beauty
But for being exquisite
But this poor little
And unfortunate sweetbread
Never got to the tray
That served the guests
A fly has landed
Over the last piece of sweetbread
Lying on the grill
Her emotion overflowed
With her old and coarsed skin
Over the inert embers
A tear of grease
The little sweetbread cried

(*) Chinchulin: cows intestins, a popular feature in argentine barbecues.

Parece (track 13)

© Lucio Arce

She seems such a pretty girl
She seems such a sweet girl
It seems that when she looks at you
Millions of lights are turned on in the sky
It seems that she’s coming closer
She looks at you, smiles and says hello
And after blessing your good fortune
You feel the knife of doubt
On your chest

She seems like a girl, she seems
She seems but you’re not quite sure
There’s something very strange in her features
The skin, the way she looks at you
The hands, the Adam’s apple
She seems like a girl, she seems
Who has very big feet
Thinking it must be several months
In your state of drunkness
She’s growing on you

It seems like she’s captivated you
Or maybe you’ve lost your mind
Although the guy kind of scares you
You like the girl
And she’s willing and able
Even if everything that glows isn’t gold
At least the sparkling seduces you
If appearances can be deceiving
They can manage to be
Pretty convincing too

She seems like a girl, she sems
She seems but you don’t really know
You hear that voice from the occult
Don’t dodge the package
And we’ll see afterwards
She seems like a girl, she seems
Looking at her from behind
Have a few beers
Take her to the room
Tell me about it later

Sin red (track #14)

© Lucio Arce

I have a friend who is in love
with a very hot girl
Red lips, tremendous eyes
Body with curves that make you dizzy
My friend is bald, kind of short
And has a heart that puts out a good fight
He’s generous, considerate
A little chubby and st-t-t-tatters

My friend suffers because the girl says
She doesn’t know what she wants
That he’s so cute, that he’s so different
That without him, she would die
But she breaks down
When doubts star to appear
She gets depressed, she stages a drama
Tells him she doesn’t deserve him

My friend torments himself, blames himself
But he tries again, he doesn’t want to lose her
The guy is true to his feelings and feeds his faith
Like a suicidal maniac, he doesn’t have a plan b
Like a tightrope walker that walks without a net

Having lived through a story
A lot like my friend’s
I know those tales are the subject
Of some tangoes and some forgetfulness
Between bottles he tells me about her
And I listen to everything he’s got to say
I take notes and wait for the day
When we show each other’s scars

Centro de Guillermo, gol de Palermo (track #15)

Center by Guillermo, goal by Palermo (*)
© Lucio Arce

There goes “the Twin”, look what he did
He threw a dribble and sat him on the ground
Inside the box lurks Martin
Every time he jumps he looks like a dolphin

The cement is beating, the stands are chanting
The narrators prepare their throats
He gets to the end line, now centers the ball
Martin with a header, puts it in the net

Center by Guillermo, goal by Palermo
Center by Guillermo, goal by Palermo
Great forwards of the “bostero” (**) people
Center by Guillermo, goal by Palermo

Long pass and a sprint, there he goes again
Diagonal run into the box, fast and daring
Raises his sight, Martin accelerates
The whole defense dispairs

Guillermo steps on the brakes, tricks the defender
The pass to Martin, who slips and misses
Amongst the mess, his good luck blooms
Pushing the ball in and scoring once again


Cordoba, Ibarra, Bermudez, Samuel,
Arruabarrena, el Chicho too
Cagna, Basualdo, Riquelme and his magic
And Martin and “the Twin” up forward

With Carlitos Bianchi on a suit and tie
Defenders defend, forwards attack
With wisdom, he made out of eleven guys
Champions of the world
Gentlemen, what a team!

Center by Guillermo, goal by Palermo
Center by Palermo, goal by Guillermo
Great forwards of the “bostero” people
Center by Guillermo, goal by Palermo

(*) Guillermo Barros Schelotto (aka “the Twin”) and Martin Palermo are two of the most beloved players in the Boca Juniors football team that went on to win the Intercontinental Cup in Japan, 2000, defeating Real Madrid 2-1 with two goals by Palermo.
(**) “Bosteros” is a way to refer to the Boca Juniors fans. Intially a perjorative reference (“bosta” is the excrement of cows) over time, the fans adopted the denomination with humor and pride.

Me estoy viniendo al bajo (track #16)

© Lucio Arce

It’s sad to know I’m not the man I was before
I have a hard time admitting I’m not the man I used to be
I can’t understand why I don’t have the endurance
I used to boast about way back when
The avalanch of time has fallen upon me
How cruel, how it hurts my poor heart
My lights don’t shine anymore, my self esteem is growing dimmer
I have turned the corner, my bonfire is extinguishing

Yesterday, as I checked my fine gentleman’s figure
Trying on some cool fancy rags
The image in the mirror slapped me in the face
Slow to dodge, I kissed the canvas
The girls on the block greet me as grandpa
My hair is turning white and above the belt line
I carry a bag of potatos, salami and candy
Beer, cake, pizza and baloney

So what? I know
I’m falling apart
So what? I know
My fifteen minutes are up
But, as you see
Although I’m getting old
I have no complaints
I deprived myself of nothing

Just like that, without a warning, old age is catching up with me
Dammed calendar, wants to destroy me
My body is offside, my head is check mate
No cold compress can ease my sorrow and sadness
Glory has disipated, I’m passed my prime
I’m a museum piece, my flower is whithering
So, as a last wish I ask of you
Give this ugly old man a little of your love


Caracú (track #17)

©Lucio Arce

Where are you, caracú?
I don’t find you in the menu
Where are you, caracú?
You got me with a nasty face

Pucheros (**) were the ones from way back then
Generous, abundant
Like those good old pucheros
I enjoyed as a kid
Today money is not enough
Not even for the broth
You can’t make ends meet
And you eat bread with onions

Potatoes, carrots
Even corn on the cob are history
Today money is not enough
Not even for cheap vegetables
The market is looted
And the owner went back to Corea
They say they eat dogs over there
But mine is skin and bones

C’mon, boys, keep pretending
Pride always afloat
Even though you had no breakfast
and in spite of the big mess
C’mon boys, if there’s misery
Please, don’t let it show

Like that Nicanora
The fifteen minutes are gone
The party is over
And the orchestra has left
Those who have it, hide it
But we already know where
Behind the walls and wire fences
Here in the outside, cat fish is biting (***)

(*) Caracú: bone marrow on the osobuco. An ingredient of “puchero”.
(**) Puchero: traditional Argentine stew with caracú.
(***) Cat fish is biting: an analogy for being hungry.

Yo soy el que se fue (track #9)

© Lucio Arce

I am the one who left, I know
Every time I go back
I am the one who left and I remained
Pinned to my memories
I am the one who left
The things I left behind
Don’t allow me to forget
Friends, coffee
The music and also
Soccer with the guys

I am the one who left and though I cried
I take good care of my nostalgia
I am the one who left and believe me
Distance is not easy
I am the one who left
And when I came to realized
Everything came crashing down
If not you can ask
Cosme, Miguel,
Guille and Alejandra

Maybe that is why I’m always coming back
If all the time I want to know
If my friends still sing my songs
And wait for the moment of seeing me again

I am the one who left and now I know
How long absence can be
I am the one who left, only to lose
Peace and innocence
I am the one who left
That’s how I came to know
Far away from home
How big the Internet is
How well Gardel sings
How expensive yerba mate (*) is these days

(*) Yerba mate: typical Argentine tea like infusion.