Seis de enero

January sixth

Walking down the street, I found a letter,
it was written by a kid, I opened it and started to read.

Dear Three Kings, I’m writing to you again
because you never seem to come to my house,
maybe it’s because I’m poor, but it’s always the same,
what’s the point of being a kid if I can’t even play?

Because the kid across the street, who has everything,
they brought him the train, the one I dreamed of so much,
I want someone to tell me what this day is for
if the rich kid plays and the poor kid just watches...

January sixth, January sixth, what’s the point in dreaming
of something I’ll never have?
January sixth, January sixth, innocence
and hope, slowly fading away.

I don’t want to be a kid anymore if I don’t have the
right to ask for what I want and for it to be brought.
Why do my parents cry
when that day comes? And they say my letter
to the king gets lost.

There are many like me who don’t have the luck
to wake up and see that the kings were here.
How much would it cost for January sixth
to make the kids of this world feel like they’re in heaven?

January sixth, January sixth, what’s the point in dreaming
of something I’ll never have?
January sixth, January sixth, innocence
and hope, slowly fading away.

I want to grow up fast so I can understand it.

January sixth, January sixth, waiting so long for that day,
I wonder what for?

January sixth, January sixth, some get a lot, others get nothing,
yo! How long will this go on? Tell me.

Playing is a right that everyone should have...