Patotero, rey del bailongo patotero sentimental, escondes bajo tu risa muchas ganas de llorar.
Ya los años se van pasando, y en mi pecho no entra un querer, en mi vida tuve muchas, muchas minas, pero nunca una mujer...
Cuando tengo dos copas de mas, en mi pecho comienza a surgir, el recuerdo de aquella fiel mujer que me quiso de verdad y que ingrato abandone...
De su amor, me burle sin mirar, que pudiera sentirlo después, sin pensar que los años al correr iban crueles a amargar a este rey del cabaret.
Pobrecita como lloraba cuando ciego la eche a rodar, la patota me miraba, y … no es de hombre el aflojar.
Patotero, rey del bailongo siempre de ella te acordaras hoy reís, pero en tu risa, solo hay ganas de llorar.
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Gangster, king of the milonga Gangster, sentimental you hide behind your laughter much desire to cry.
Already the years are passing by, and in my chest does not enter an affection in my life I had many, many broads, but I never had a woman...
When I have two extra drinks in my chest begins to appear, the memory of that faithful woman who really loved to me and that I, ungrateful, abandoned...
Of her love, I made fun without thinking that I could begin to regret it later without thinking that as the years were passing they were going to embitter this king of the night club.
Poor girl, how she cried when blindly I sent her away the gang was watching, and it is not manly to give in.
Gangster, king of the milonga you'll always remember her today you laugh, but in your laughter, there is only a desire to cry. |