Chacarera Del Progreso

Crowded souls, abandoned lands
the sky shrinks, and the killing smoke grows
there will always be a corner where you can save yourself.
Concrete trees unmoved by the wind
steel birds gracelessly crossing the sky
can't match the flight of the bird.

I prefer to sit in the sun, and watch a child run
to learn from the night, that even without light you can see.
It's possible that the moon, is not just the moon
watchtower of the path, of the path...

Electronic friends, cybernetic loves
people are no longer seen, voices are not felt
and more and more alone and enclosed.

I prefer to see you, and feel your voice beating
and the letter I keep, from your hand and your skin.
It's possible that the rain is not just rain
carving the path, the path.

Technological music, psychedelic lights
prefabricated groups, guaranteed success
the jungle where you were born is so far away.

I prefer to sing like this, with a guitar and a voice
and if I have to choose, let the sun hit my face.
Singing I will live, singing I will die
the song will be eternal, the one that reaches the heart.
It's possible that the earth is not just earth
it's the mother of the path, of the path...