The song lyrics were written by the band Van Halen, as they were asked to write a song for the 1979 movie "Over the Edge" starring Matt Dillon. The movie (and the lyrics, although more obliquely) are about bored, rebellious youth with nothing better to do than get into trouble. If you see the movie, these lyrics will make more sense. It's a great movie if you grew up in the 70s/80s you'll definitely remember some of these characters from your own life. Fun fact, after writing the song, Van Halen decided not to let the movie use it.
Este hombre del casino provinciano
Que vio a Carancha recibir un día,
Tiene mustia la piel, el pelo cano,
Ojos velados por melancolía,
Bajo el bigote gris, labios de hastío,
Y una triste expresión que no es tristeza,
Sino algo más y menos, el vacío
Del mundo en la oquedad de su cabeza.
Aún luce de corinto terciopelo
Chaqueta y pantalón abotinado,
Y un cordobés color de caramelo
Pulido y torneado.
Tres veces heredó y tres ha perdido
Al monte su caudal, dos ha enviudado.
Sólo se anima ante el azar prohibido
Sobre el verde tapete reclinado,
O al evocar la tarde de un torero,
La suerte de un tahúr o si alguien cuenta
La hazaña de un gallardo bandolero,
O la proeza de un matón, sangrienta.
Bosteza de políticas banales
Dicterios al gobierno reaccionario
Y augura que vendrán los liberales
Cual torna la cigüeña al campanario.
Un poco labrador, del cielo aguarda
Y al cielo teme, alguna vez suspira
Pensando en su olivar, al cielo mira
Con ojo inquieto si la lluvia tarda.
Lo demás, taciturno, hipocondríaco,
Prisionero en la Arcadia del presente,
Le aburre, sólo el humo del tabaco
Simula algunas sombras en su frente.
Este hombre no es de ayer, ni es de mañana
Sino de nunca, de la cepa hispana.
No es el fruto maduro, ni podrido,
Es una fruta vana
De aquella España que pasó y no ha sido
Esa que hoy tiene la cabeza cana
Que vio a Carancha recibir un día,
Tiene mustia la piel, el pelo cano,
Ojos velados por melancolía,
Bajo el bigote gris, labios de hastío,
Y una triste expresión que no es tristeza,
Sino algo más y menos, el vacío
Del mundo en la oquedad de su cabeza.
Aún luce de corinto terciopelo
Chaqueta y pantalón abotinado,
Y un cordobés color de caramelo
Pulido y torneado.
Tres veces heredó y tres ha perdido
Al monte su caudal, dos ha enviudado.
Sólo se anima ante el azar prohibido
Sobre el verde tapete reclinado,
O al evocar la tarde de un torero,
La suerte de un tahúr o si alguien cuenta
La hazaña de un gallardo bandolero,
O la proeza de un matón, sangrienta.
Bosteza de políticas banales
Dicterios al gobierno reaccionario
Y augura que vendrán los liberales
Cual torna la cigüeña al campanario.
Un poco labrador, del cielo aguarda
Y al cielo teme, alguna vez suspira
Pensando en su olivar, al cielo mira
Con ojo inquieto si la lluvia tarda.
Lo demás, taciturno, hipocondríaco,
Prisionero en la Arcadia del presente,
Le aburre, sólo el humo del tabaco
Simula algunas sombras en su frente.
Este hombre no es de ayer, ni es de mañana
Sino de nunca, de la cepa hispana.
No es el fruto maduro, ni podrido,
Es una fruta vana
De aquella España que pasó y no ha sido
Esa que hoy tiene la cabeza cana
Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings
Del Pasado Efímero Lyrics as written by Joan Manuel Serrat Antonio Machado
Lyrics © SOCIEDAD GENERAL DE AUTORES DE ESPANA S G A E
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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