Sirenas takes you on a dizzying night out in Madrid where heartbreak, fame, and desire crash together like waves. The narrator admits he never learned to slow down or stop, so he plunges straight into smoky cabarets, frantic dances, and cantinas that have "forgotten what the moon smells like." Wrapped in black, the mysterious partner is both a mourning widow and an irresistible siren; her legs are his "overdose" and her wild dancing seems to keep every hidden fear at bay.
Behind the party lights, though, Taburete paints a bittersweet picture of people trying to outrun emptiness. Lost fame, strange mornings, and the shouted chorus "¡A casa de Dron!" hint at the inevitable comedown and the search for somewhere—anywhere—to belong once the music fades. Sirenas is equal parts celebration and confession, reminding us that the rush of the night can never fully drown out what hurts beneath the surface.