In the poor neighborhoods where he grew up,
the devil was stronger than the angels.
About all that the older boys taught him
was to lie at too young an age.
And they called him Chicano—
free like a bird of Mexico.
Barefoot in his childhood,
without knowing what he would do tomorrow.
Whatever will be, will be
tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.
It's your life, Chicano,
tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.
Watch out, Chicano,
Chicano.
For two matches, a piece of bread,
he trailed after kids of the same age.
And, at night in a garden,
they divided up all of their treasures.
And they called him Chicano—
free like a bird of Mexico.
Barefoot in his childhood,
which ended a bit too soon.
Between four walls, a little too cold,
He finished out his adolescence
for a stupidity that formerly
he had committed without knowing it.
Then they called him Chicano,
the gamin of the streets of Mexico
who wanted to come out of the shadows
and make way for the sunlight.
Whatever will be, will be
tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.
It's your life, Chicano,
tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.
Watch out, Chicano,
tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.
It's your life Chicano
tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.
Watch out, Chicano,
Chicano.