Apiádate de Él, Señor
Pappo
Have Mercy on Him, Lord
They walk on the pavement,
millions of people now;
a new day has begun,
today they won't recognize you either.
You'll be there again,
in Suipacha and the pedestrian street;
your feet, even in shoes,
will still crave more warmth.
"Papers!" you'll shout, "Papers!"
There are many who don’t even look at you,
there are others who say, "no, no";
only a few will say:
"Have mercy on him, Lord."
"Papers!" you'll shout, "Papers!"
