Machala Machala

He always lay down and started to think
That he didn’t want to be like them and began to dream
Of a big mansion with seven thousand servants
Visited by ministers and also by presidents

Presidents, ahh, presidents, ahh

He prayed and talked about luxuries and expensive things
Sports cars and women who were more than just eye candy
Tons of friends with beepers and cell phones
But none of those guys had any happiness

Happiness, happiness

That dream ran out and he lit a cigarette
And he said, 'Wow, what luck, what luck that it’s not me'
Thinking again, his cigarette went out
And as he closed his eyes, he softly whispered

Machala machala, may God not punish me
With money, with jewels, or with too many luxuries
Of course, of course, don’t let me forget
To punish me with women and with lots of wine and rum

These days he lies down and starts to meditate
On what he has within reach and doesn’t let it slip away
A lot of fun and almost always with his crew
Far from dreaming of what doesn’t belong to him

Belonging, ahhhhhhh, belonging, ahhhhhhhh