Tarde de domingo, los pájaros me cantan
todas las canciones, conducen a ninguna parte.
Tarde de domingo, con mi chica luminosa,
yo sueño con espacios libres, pero ella sueña cosas aahh,
cada vez mas fuertes, cada vez mas luminosas.
Mas luminosa ah.
Tarde de domingo, amor de primavera
será que las canciones, conducen a ninguna parte.
Din don din don ooh din don din don ooh,
ebri bari din don ebri bari din don.
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