Behind the father’s river
The city could be seen bustling
And the solitary flower wilting
In the fenced flowerbeds
The little guy up there on his hill
Came to contemplate them in peace…
These children who play outdoors
Between the road and the railway
They’ll end up gasping for air
Or they’re going to get electrocuted
The little guy up there on his hill
Came to contemplate them in peace…
But the little guy didn’t understand anything
Stretched out under the trees he was comfortable
Waiting calmly for the wine harvest
What good are their beautiful manners
If their words are poisoned
What good are their proud heads
When they walk with their backs bent
The little guy up there on his hill
Came to contemplate them in peace…
But behind the father’s river
The city could be seen bustling
And the ogres of business turning round
In the air-conditioned glass towers
The little guy up there on his hill
Came to contemplate them in peace…
But the little guy didn’t understand anything
Stretched out under the trees he was comfortable
Waiting calmly for his bread to bake
But the little guy didn’t understand anything
Where are they going to die these poor puppets
Stretched out under the trees they would be so comfortable
Waiting calmly for the wine to flow