This is a delightfully ironic song about those people who come into your life as friends and then end up throwing you under the bus after you do everything you can for them. I've put the live version because it's a lot of fun (although the studio version is also great).
Mira, ja feia temps
Look, it had been a while
que la teva nàpia augusta
Since your venerable nose
no em parava pel carrer
Hadn't stopped me on the street
i jo, amic, tocava fusta.
And I, my friend, I knocked on wood
Vas venir discret primer,
You came discreetly at first
confonent-te a l'hora punta,
Mixing yourself up at rush hour
amb tota la marabunta
With all the swarms of people
que adormida surt del tren.
Sleepily getting off the train
I quins temps, amic, quins temps.
And what times, my friend, what times we had
A la caseta de fusta.
In the little wooden shed
Sempre sonava un CD
There was always a CD playing
quan voltaves per la cuina.
When you were in the kitchen
Jo devia fer cara de demanar ajuda.
My expression must have been asking for help
Gràcies per venir
Thanks for coming
a temptar-me un altre cop,
For tempting me once again
a posar-ho tot a lloc, Judes.
For putting everything its place, Judas
Fixa’t amb quina il·lusió
Look at how excitedly
et vaig donar la benvinguda.
I welcomed you
Vas ser el sol del meu balcó
You were the sunshine on my balcony
i pel meu jardí la pluja.
And the rain for my garden
Ja em coneixes, saps com sóc
You know me, you know how I am
i no vull posar-te excuses,
And I don’t want to make excuses
però el temps passa per tothom.
But time passes for everyone
Massa lent, cagunlaputa.
Too slowly, goddammit
I aquelles nits sense son
And through those sleepless nights
em va anar invaïnt un dubte
I was invaded by a doubt
que avançava entre els racons
Which advanced from between corners
i els pilots de roba bruta.
And the piles of dirty laundry
Has vingut a quedar-te, o tens alguna excusa?
Have you come to stay, or do you have some excuse?
Vinga Quim, controla el pols.
Come on, Quim, control your pulse
Vols la guerra? O què cony vols?
Do you want war? Or what the hell do you want?
Que bé et tires els farols, Judes.
How good you are at putting up appearances, Judas
I m'han dit que vas dient
And they’ve told me that you’ve been saying
pels cafès i les tertúlies
At the cafes and the local groups
que em comporto com un nen,
That I behave like a child
que no aguanto quan em jutgen.
That I can’t handle people judging me
Ens anàvem a menjar el món.
We were going to take on the world
D'això, amic, no en tinc cap dubte.
About that, my friend, I have no doubts
De tant em pregunto on són
Sometimes I ask myself where they are
les nostres grans aventures.
All our grand adventures
I és mentida si us dic que me la suda.
And it’s a lie if I tell you that I don’t care
Gràcies per venir
Thanks for coming
a temptar-me un últim cop,
To tempt me one last time
a posar-me en el meu lloc, Judes.
To put me in my place, Judas
