Casas Viejas

The piled-up hunger fills the shirt of generations
Who live poverty as something innate and fear in their faces
Slave
New hopes arise from enclosed silence
Because now the laborers demand land and work
It was the massacre of old houses for wanting to bear fruit to the land
It was the massacre of old houses for wanting to bear fruit to the land

In the square, shooting with the civil guard
More reinforcements arrive with gunpowder and fire
The ignorance of force with shrapnel in the brain
Uniforms and rifles against the hunger of the laborer
It's easy to sink the shack of 'sixfingers' and end up burned
Four days of agony and suffering and then shot
It was the massacre of old houses for wanting to bear fruit to the land
It was the massacre of old houses for wanting to bear fruit to the land
For wanting to bear fruit to the land... for wanting to bear fruit to the land