Así son mis días/Days of our lives.

Let me put my glasses on,
the sun is about to come.
Let me throw down a fill,
and have a coffee sip,
to wake and bake,
before the earth starts to shake,
and all these fancy buildings
fall down to pieces, like rain.

Ready to shred, leading the sun till rest,
cause; noisy, filthy smooth streets are waiting.

Some massive riding, cruising, reaching
a Sunday spliff and a forty on a Monday;
chilling at home, going out,
moving out, heading for a further fix.
Skate the spot, get up, light up,
till hear the crack of your bones,
and not being able to
step up on your own.

Holy, holy summer days;
getting lost train,
hang'in around at downtown,
and heading south
till Xochimilco with grandma.

Día de Los Muertos weekend;
searching for a decent price beer,
and someplace to die and rebirth,
on a journey for desmadre.

And then, when the sun goes down;
booze the night away, Eje 1 till Bucarelli,
getting high, sliding thru the sidewalks,
bumping from party to party, getting blind,
thieving bottles of liquor and wine.

Minecrafters of afters, but then
wild on the streets again.
Too shitface to reach my bead, so call a uber
and ask the driver to pull his windows down.

To smoke out the last cig
on our way back home;
while I watch
the city lights,
and peacefully,
we reach tomorrows bright.