Pesadilla laboral
Skaparapid Lyrics

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6:30 de la mañana, abre los bares, calles mojadas,
olor a lejia y cafe express, unos depiertan y
otros duerme. Maldito cacharro de truncar sueños,
con tus chirridos vuelvo al infierno.

Calzo las botas levanto mi cuerpo,
me lanzo a la calle a por el sutento,
ocho, diez horas de crudo invierno.

Donde esta es flor que perdi en mi pensamiento,
donde esta el viento que me hacia gritar,
donde esta el sol que quemaba mis manos,
donde esta la lluvia que curtia mi espalda,
donde esta esa luz que iluminaba tus ojos,
donde esta el camino donde esat la vida,
donde estan tus manos, no junto a las mias.

Siempre machacando .... y un dia tras otro,
que sea un mal sueño, pero de est yo,
yo no me despierto,
com un automata vuevlvo a mi puesto.

Maldito artefacto de truncar sueños.
Siempre machacando al mismo,
por lo mismo de lo mismo,
pero nunca has protestado,
porque siempre te han callado,

te han callado, te han callado,
me has callado patron.

Overall Meaning

The lyrics to Skaparapid's song Pesadilla laboral (Work Nightmare) speaks about the daily struggles of a working-class person who wakes up early in the morning at 6:30 to open bars and hit the streets. The streets are wet, and the air is filled with the scent of bleach and express coffee. Some are just waking up while others are still sleeping. The singer despises the alarm that disrupts their peaceful dreams and takes them back to the daily grind. However, the singer gets up, puts on their boots, and heads to work for 8 to 10 hours of harsh winter weather.

The singer then contemplates the things that they have lost in their life, like the flower that they lost in their thought, the wind that made them scream, the sun that burned their hands, the rain that hardened their back, and the light that illuminated the eyes of their loved ones. They also question where the path of life leads and where their hands are, wondering why they are not holding the hands of their loved ones.

The song highlights the struggles of working-class individuals and how they are often stuck in a never-ending cycle of working long hours every day. It speaks about how the routine can make individuals feel like robots, just going through the motions of the day. Despite the tiresome nature of their job, many are unable to protest or speak up due to their insecure financial position, a common plight in modern society.

Line by Line Meaning

6:30 de la mañana, abre los bares, calles mojadas, olor a lejia y cafe express, unos depiertan y otros duerme.
It's 6:30 in the morning, bars are opening, streets are wet with the smell of bleach and espresso. Some people wake up while others are still asleep.

Maldito cacharro de truncar sueños, con tus chirridos vuelvo al infierno.
This damn machine that cuts off dreams, with its noises, takes me back to the hell.

Calzo las botas levanto mi cuerpo, me lanzo a la calle a por el sutento, ocho, diez horas de crudo invierno.
I put on my boots, get myself up, and hit the street to make a living. I work for 8-10 hours in harsh winter conditions.

Donde esta es flor que perdi en mi pensamiento, donde esta el viento que me hacia gritar, donde esta el sol que quemaba mis manos, donde esta la lluvia que curtia mi espalda, donde esta esa luz que iluminaba tus ojos, donde esta el camino donde esat la vida, donde estan tus manos, no junto a las mias.
Where is the flower that I lost in my thoughts, where is the wind that made me scream, where is the sun that burnt my hands, where is the rain that soaked my back, where is the light that illuminated your eyes, where is the path where life is, where are your hands, not next to mine.

Siempre machacando .... y un dia tras otro, que sea un mal sueño, pero de est yo, yo no me despierto, com un automata vuevlvo a mi puesto.
Always crushing... and day after day, I wish it was a bad dream, but I don't wake up, I return to my position like a robot.

Maldito artefacto de truncar sueños. Siempre machacando al mismo, por lo mismo de lo mismo, pero nunca has protestado, porque siempre te han callado, te han callado, te han callado, me has callado patron.
Damn machine that cuts off dreams. Always crushing in the same way, for the same things. But you never protest, because you have always been silenced, you have silenced me, boss.

Lyrics © OBO APRA/AMCOS

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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