[Verse 1: Catalan rumba male lead, raw rasp over punchy live drums and slapping handclaps, som-hi] Every paper in the city wrote a column on my show Said the voice was like a scooter and the dancin' was too slow Said the hat looked like a teacup, said the jokes were out of date And my uncle sent the clipping with a note that said "too late" But I never write 'em back, I never argue, never pout I just tell 'em, "Thank you, friend," and I go dancin' out 'Cause a man who's under fire for twenty years is gettin' warm And the critics never noticed that I'm built for the storm [Hook: Catalan rumba male lead, full band, ventilador strums] Put me under fire, I been livin' there for years Every column, every panning, every heckle, all the jeers You can run for cover, I'll be dancin' where it's hot Under fire, I'm at home, and, foc, I love it a lot [Verse 2: Catalan rumba male lead, handclaps faster, guitars bright] Then it's festival in Gràcia and the devils hit the street Spinnin' fireworks on pitchforks, sparks are rainin' on your feet And the rule is cotton hat and sleeves and nerve and not a lot of sense And the tourists see the first one and they sprint behind a fence Critics on the balcony with wine and little notes Waitin' for the scooter voice to run off with the goats But I been wearin' this same hat since I was nine years old And I step right in the middle where the devils spin the gold [Hook: Catalan rumba male lead, full band, ventilador strums] Put me under fire, I been livin' there for years Every column, every panning, every heckle, all the jeers You can run for cover, I'll be dancin' where it's hot Under fire, I'm at home, and, foc, I love it a lot [Verse 3: Catalan rumba male lead, guitars racing] So I'm rumba under fireworks, I'm fannin' with my hands And the devils start to circle me like a crown of burnin' strands And the balcony is smokin' and the critics duck inside And the tourists peek from doorways, and they can't believe their eyes 'Cause the thing you called my weakness was the thing I trained for most I been dancin' under fire since you buttered your first toast Write it down, I'm still the worst, I'm the worst you ever saw And I'm dancin' in the sparks, and the whole street drops its jaw [Bridge: Catalan rumba male lead, spark shower, the handclaps crackle like a shower of sparks falling on the beat, then the full band slams back] Spin it, spin it, devil, put it all upon my hat Every spark is a review, and every review is fat Visca, visca, every devil's cheerin' my name And the critics' notes catch fire and float off in flame [Final Hook: Catalan rumba male lead, full band, ventilador strums, every hand clapping] Put me under fire, I been livin' there for years Every column, every panning, every heckle, all the jeers You can run for cover, I'll be dancin' where it's hot Under fire, I'm at home, and, foc, I love it a lot [End]
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