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Sobre as sete da tarde espertamos. Xa ninguén sabe onde andamos. Veñen á mente movidas borrosas. Toda a noite apalpando baldosas. E A CABESA QUE CON TANTA SERVESA XA NON PENSA. ADEMAIS ERA DESA, DA BOA, DA QUE SOLUSIONA UNHA NOITE, UNHA FESTA. “Oigan, chorbos, no se pasen de listos. Me suda la polla que sean artistas. Alguien tiene que pagar este vino”. E nós sen pasta para a autopista. E A CABESA QUE CON TANTA SERVESA XA NON PENSA. ADEMAIS ERA DESA, DA BOA, DA QUE SOLUSIONA UNHA NOITE, UNHA FESTA.
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We woke up around seven in the afternoon. Nobody knows where we are. Blurred stuff comes to our mind. Touching floor tiles all night long. OUR HEAD CAN’T THINK WITH SO MUCH BEER. GOOD BEER, THE ONE THAT SOLVES ONE NIGHT, ONE PARTY. “Hey guys! Don’t be a know it all. I don’t give a damn if you are artists. Someone has to pay for this wine”. And we’re broke for the motorway. OUR HEAD CAN’T THINK WITH SO MUCH BEER. GOOD BEER, THE ONE THAT SOLVES ONE NIGHT, ONE PARTY.

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from AL OTOMANO SE LE VA LA MANO, released November 11, 2015

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Terbutalina GA, Spain

Galician Garage-Punk.

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