Hey white boy, what you are doing here
Walking up the hill to try and have fun
But I already told you I don't have it
And you still want more
Why don't you leave me be
Why don't you leave me be
Of these twenty years none was made for me
And now you want me to be just like you
Oh really, how will I grow up if nothing grows here?
Who will take care of the diseased?
And when there’s a slaughter of teenagers
How do you feel?
Instead of light there is a shooting at the end of the tunnel
Always more of the same
Wasn't this that you wanted to hear?
Ah, how kind of you to explain to me with such determination
Exactly what I feel, how I think and how I am
I really didn’t know that I thought like this
And now you want a portrait of the country
But they burned out the film
But they burned out the film
Meanwhile, in the infirmary
All the sick are singing popular successes
Popular successes
Popular successes
(And all the Indians were dead)
(And all the Indians were dead)