Alado means "winged". It's a beautifully poetic and uncommon adjective used in the song to describe a "hombre alado" — a winged man.
This powerful image casts the narrator as a modern-day Icarus, flying over the intense city of "fury". The song uses this metaphor to explore feelings of escape and vulnerability, especially in the iconic line "Con la luz del sol se derriten mis alas" (With the sunlight, my wings melt).
Picture Buenos Aires at night through the eyes of a winged creature swooping over empty rooftops. In En La Ciudad De La Furia, Argentine rock band Soda Stereo turns the country's capital into a moody nocturnal maze. The narrator calls himself a hombre alado [winged man] who drifts through dark streets where nadie sabe de mí y yo soy parte de todos [nobody knows me and I am part of everyone]. Instead of a sunny travel postcard, you get a restless ghost gliding past anxious faces, diving down como un ave de presa [like a bird of prey] onto deserted terraces before the sun comes up.
The real hook here is the daylight dread. Borrowing directly from the myth of Icarus, he admits that con la luz del sol se derriten mis alas [with the sunlight my wings melt]. Dawn is not a fresh start; it is a threat. That is why he relies on a lover to shelter him, begging sabrás ocultarme bien y desaparecer entre la niebla [you will know how to hide me well and vanish into the fog]. The song directly names Buenos Aires as susceptible [vulnerable, thin-skinned], caught in a cycle of tension where ya no hay fábulas [there are no more fables]. It is dark, sharp, and obsessed with the quiet relief of hiding out until night returns.