Letras
White walls, beige champagne, gallery stare
They scan us like a QR code floating in the air
Searching for the context, the placard on the frame
Trying to pronounce the heavy accent on your name
(¿Qué dicen? Let them talk.)
I feel the ticker tape scrolling on my retina
Typing out excuses, explaining the drama
Performing this romance for an audience of ghosts
Polishing the captions for a curated toast
Did you catch that look? Did you hear that tone?
I'm broadcasting anxiety inside the comfort zone
Trying to synchronize the audio to the lip
Editing the footage while I'm loosing my grip
I don't owe you the subtitles
Read my lips or walk away
We speak a dialect of two
In the middle of the fray
No translation, sin traducción
Raw footage, straight to the bone
I don't owe you the subtitles
(Turn 'em off, turn 'em off)
I don't owe you the subtitles
Under the table, static electricity
Your thumb on my pulse, that's the only history
They see a clash of cultures, a glitch in the render
I see the technicolor violent and tender
Tell me in Spanglish, whisper it low
Where the pretentious critics can't ever go
Running your fingers through the doubts in my head
Leaving the judgment completely unread
Did you catch that look? (I don't care.)
Did you hear that tone? (Let 'em stare.)
I'm killing the anxiety inside the comfort zone
Stop synchronizing audio to the lip
Stop editing the footage, let the record skip
I don't owe you the subtitles
Read my lips or walk away
We speak a dialect of two
In the middle of the fray
No translation, sin traducción
Raw footage, straight to the bone
I don't owe you the subtitles
(Turn 'em off, turn 'em off)
I don't owe you the subtitles
Wait
The text on the screen. it isn't theirs