EL REY
DEL
CABARET.

He was a well-off, arrogant young man, his hair groomed with Coty and pomade, for whom the girls would fight, begging for a word of love. They called him king of the milonga, and any woman who passed his way fell into his pampered-boy arms without the slightest effort.

King of the cabaret, king without a heart: the women were your downfall with their foolish adoration. King of the cabaret, you live without love, and through your soul there always passes a shadow of pain.

But at last there crossed his path a woman of great resolve, whom his beauty could not conquer, and she avenged them all. The heat of that searing mark turned his whim into affection, and that tough guy cried like a child, begging for a word of love.

King of the cabaret, how you love her! Why do you keep pretending when you cannot forget her? King of the cabaret, you suffer for love, and today, in your wounded soul, you feel the stings of pain.