Mamás de Moisés

Caravans of teenagers line up at the border
It's better far away than dead
Shouts a grandmother in the trench
The present is a desert
And the future a pressure cooker
While another mother of Moisés cries

They undid their basket, threw them down the river
Patience said enough, and exile is a shortcut
And a student becomes a worker
And a minute becomes a month
While another mother of Moisés cries

Dreams, like paper airplanes
Owners, of another Tower of Babel
Another leader joined
The blacklist of history
With his airs of God
Clutching a throne without memory
Breakfast with Champagne
While another mother of Moisés cries

Freedom in captivity and lies in the oratory
If death is ministry, revenge is memory
They sign checks with the left hand
And shop in English
While another mother of Moisés cries

Dreams like paper boats
Owners of another Tower of Babel
Another leader joined
The blacklist of history
With his airs of God
Clutching a throne without memory
Breakfast with Champagne
While another mother of Moisés cries

The popular flag disguises itself in an offshore
It's already listed on Wall Street and has a house by the sea

Another leader joined
The blacklist of history
With his airs of God
Clutching a throne without memory
Breakfast with Champagne
While another mother of Moisés cries

Caravans of teenagers line up at the border