It was five in the morning
a priest in training, a manual worker,
with a thousand documents of economic solvency
that don´t afford them the luxury of sincerity.
It was seven in the morning
going one by one to the slaughterhouse
since everyone has their price
looking for a visa for a dream.
(lie-la-lie, lie-la-lie)
The sun burning up his guts, phew!
a consolation letter
with a two-by-four photograph
that melts away in the silence.
It was nine in the morning
Santo Domingo, January the 8th
and the patience is running out
because there´s no longer a visa for a dream
¡Oh, oh!
Searching for a visa for a dream
Searching for a visa for a dream
Searching for a visa made of concrete and lime
who would find me on the asphalt?
Searching for a visa for a dream (oh)
Searching for a visa for a dream
Searching for a visa, the reason of being
Searching for a visa so as not to come back
Searching for a visa for a dream (oh)
Searching for a visa for a dream
Searching for a visa, oh how furious it makes me
Searching for a visa, a blow from the powers that be
Searching for a visa, what else can I do
Searching for a visa, to sink
Searching for a visa, fodder for the sea
Searching for a visa, the reason of being
Searching for a visa, so as not to come back.