Hey, white boy what you are doing here?
Walking up the hill to try to have fun
But I already told you that don't have it
And you still want more
Why don't you stop bothering me?
Of these twenty years none was made for me
And now you want that I stay like this, like you
Oh really, how I grow up if nothing grows here?
Who will take care of the sicks?
And when there is a massacre of teenagers
How do you feel?
Instead of light there is shooting at the end of the tunnel
Always more from the same
Wasn't this that you wanted to hear?
It's very kind of you part to explain to me with so much determination
Exactly what I feel, how I thought, and how I am
I really don't knew that I thought like this
And now you want a portrait of the country
But they burned out the film
Meanwhile, in the infirmary
All the sicks are singing popular success
(and all the Indians were dead)