In front of my transceiver
A figure dressed in black
Observes me from her hell
The hematoma of your body

Has been returned to the coroner
But in my wide open eyes
I see your wise ghost
Getting older

Benzedrine makes me sick to tears
Every alibi, every lie checked
A be-bop tune floats through the air
I’m under the spell of hope

Under the dim lights
I have a date with the truth
43 boxing wins
1 defeat: your thin body

I take the pugilistic blows
Of destiny gloved with panic
I’ve been to all the bars
This night is long and hopeless

And the heavy rain is already falling
Like a stream of your mascara
We never knew each other
But I liked your terse words

Standing at attention before your white body
You gave me the illusion of being
An important man
I am a slave to your hell

My heart is cut with an axe
A bullet gets lost on my memos
And piled up on my desk
The files pile up and I slip

Already the rain is dripping
Like whiskey in the water
And the sirens are sounding
In this adorable fiasco

The neon lights flash, yellow and dull
The air raid simulation
Shatters the silence of this cold parking lot
The silence of this cold parking lot

Sad and anonymous little thing
Leaning against the pinball machine like a queen
High on ambition,
The dead is your field of action

Pretty dahlia you twist the neck
To my idealistic truth
From false track to false track
My impotence drives me crazy

And in the wake of your crime
Your dead look makes me dance
It is a sinister and vain truth;
You make me hyperventilate.

You are my innamorata
When the Santa Ana wind
Squirts in anachronistic drops
On my elastic penal code

An abandoned car
Welcomes my crazy body
Folded like a pellet gun
I see you pouting in the blond clouds

The bookies give me the favorite
To solve your murder,
Little country tease
You’ve mortgaged my life

And in the Spanish ranchos
With walls decorated with garlands
I looked for the fumaroles,
The traces of your foul murder

If I am a crime technician,
A fog of sublime hypotheses
Spreads over the leatherette benches
And on the windows of the elevators

I patrolled alone in civilian clothes
Vaseline to keep my eyelashes
Open to the light of this parking lot
I walked up and down each of these buildings

I thought I’d make a meal out of
Of your papier-mâché existence
But in the doorway of your life
Your smile covers every alibi

State of the art motorcycles
Sleep in this rainy parking lot
Like cockroaches in a pile
Dahlia my heart is a half wreck,

Let’s leave life to the idolaters
Your ending is my theater
My personal opinion
Is not worth more than a spark

Do you think I wanted to be a hero?
Little I only wanted to save my skin
And the glow of your innocent laughter
Keep on dancing, absent

Kid I have to forget about you
You don’t give me a break
My royal flush is gone
In the ring of my life

A phone line
Is unhooked, and slams
On your memory cut out
In the wet newspaper clippings

Let me return in peace
Evacuate my unpaid bills
I got life sentence with your black eyes
And the overtime subject my body

A bottle of watery alcohol
Lies in the feverish parking lot
Is this your ultimate reflection
Flower whose past I dry up?