Siglo XXI

21st Century, swap meet, problematic and feverish
Santos Discépolo announced, a poet of the 2000s
And prophet in that tango that sang to corruption
That rules the sewers of human condition

21st Century, man has died, long live capital!
It won't be that swap meet where everything was the same
By then, a wise man won't be the same as a traitor
The biggest Judas will be the one who climbs the podium of honor

Lie will be law and simulation, institution
Bribery by right and by the holy commission
The thief will go stuffed in his official Mercedes
And the trickster will set up his lectern in a trilateral

The drug dealer of the future won't be that criminal
Who sold rat poison when it was still illegal
By then, he will be the president of coca-control
In his branch of entertainment: Sex, drugs, and rock'n'roll

Climb, climb on your hump, the climber will become VIP
And the leech that sucks will suck until the RIP
The worm, with the remains, will swell like a pig
And, very fat, will be swallowed by the shark

And the end of history has come and Capone will be king
Of those who suffered it in their flesh and still drag it like an ox
God died, Nietzsche predicted but here is the totus dei
Who buried the red demon who learned to say: Okay
All to buy some jeans made in the USA

You will tell me and rightly so that I am also a thief
That the music and lyrics of this fraudulent song
Are a plagiarism of Bob Dylan and the great Discepolín
It's true but, damn it!, who despises that loot
That plagiarized God from Merlin
And the devil, Marilyn
And Picasso, the harlequin
And Spartacus, Bakunin
And the sphinx, Rin Tin Tin
And the beginning is always the end
In the end