He lived in a small village
And he was really poor
And he had a pure soul
And a million suns in his head
He came from the world without money
Completely thin and with a pale face
And he observed from his attic
And lived alone, and like a bird
[Chorus]
Antonio, Antonio
Antonio, Antonio
Antonio, Antonio
He lived in a small village
With a machine, books and biscuits
He wrote on a leaf of paper
Cervantes Saavedra: Don Quijote
He came that way from Chile
Like a sad hidalgo without a sword
And he contemplated how to go through life
Without getting dirty
[Chorus]
Antonio, Antonio
Antonio, Antonio
Antonio, Antonio
He lived in a small village
No one understood him
Cause there aren't many like him in the world
Who live to be laughed at
And he had a poetic soul
And he was an odd artist
All the people go the way wind blows
He lives in the weave made of dreams
[Chorus]
Antonio, Antonio
Antonio, Antonio
Antonio, Antonio