What's new, Buenos Aires? Your nation which a few years ago had the second largest gold reserve in the world is now bankrupt. Your country which grew up and grew rich on beef is now rationing it. La Prensa, one of the few newspapers which dare to oppose Peronism has now been silenced and so have all the other reasonable voices. I'll tell you what's new, Buenos Aires.....
Dice are rolling, the knives are out
I see every bad sign in the book
And as far as they can--overweight to a man!
They have that lean and hungry look
But we still have the magic we've always had!
The descamisados still worship me
We arrived thanks to them and no-one else
Not thanks to your generals -
A clutch of stuffed cuckoos!
It's not a question of a big parade,
Proving we're big with the mobs on the street
You're wrong
The people, my people
The people belong to no-one!
They are fickle, can be manipulated
They don't matter!
However much they love you
Now it matters more that
As far as my stuffed cuckoos are concerned,
You don't politically exist!
So I don't exist! So I count for nothing!
Try saying that on the streets
When all over the world I am Argentina!
Most of your generals wouldn't be recognized
By their own mothers!
But they'll admit I exist when I become vice-president!
That won't work...
We've been through all of this before
They'd fight you tooth and nail
You'd never overcome them
With a hundred rallies and even if you did.....
Yes?
Your little body's slowly breaking down
You're losing speed, you're losing strength
Not style - that goes on flourishing forever
But your eyes, your smile
Do not have the sparkle of your fantastic past
If you climb one more mountain it could be your last
I'm not that ill. Bad moments come but they go
Some days are fine, some a little bit harder
But that doesn't mean I should change my routine
Have you ever seen me defeated?
Don't you forget what I've been through
And yet I'm still standing
And if I am ill-- it could even be to your advantage!
Advantage? I'm trying to point out that you are dying!
This talk of death is chilling
Of course you're not going to die!
Then I must now be vice-president!
And I shall have my people come to choose
Two Perons to wear their country's crowns
In thousands in my squares and avenues
Emptying their villages and towns
Where every soul in a home or shack or stall
Knows me as Argentina, that is all
Oh I shall be a great vice-president!
So what happens now?
So what happens now?
Where am I going to?
Don't ask anymore