Gerente de La Nada

Rich kid
Manager of nothing
You govern with colors, balloons, and propaganda
That potato in your mouth
Gives you away
Disgust for the poor
Is your trademark

There they are
They are
Ecologists of repression
There they are
They are
From the green city, without blacks

You smile, as the beard dictates
That South American that doesn't make you nauseous
You pretend to drink mate
And dance a little cumbia

But cumbia doesn't dance with you
The choripan doesn't agree with you
Mate makes you nauseous
And your sweaty hips know nothing

You promote, clandestine workshops
You promote, hatred for the different
You promote, phrases of divine pastor
You steal, dreams of the excluded

Rich kid
Entrepreneur of souls
You don't want the slum
Nor the fat, nor the trans
You denied us rights
You treated us as sick
You repressed the homeless
Just a nobody!

There they are
They are
Ecologists of repression
There they are
They are
From the green city, without blacks

You smile, as the beard dictates
That South American that doesn't make you nauseous
You pretend to drink mate
And dance a little cumbia

But cumbia doesn't dance with you
The choripan doesn't agree with you
Mate makes you nauseous
And your sweaty hips know nothing

You promote, clandestine workshops
You promote, hatred for the different
You promote, phrases of divine pastor
You steal, dreams of the excluded

But cumbia doesn't dance with you
The choripan doesn't agree with you
Mate makes you nauseous
And your sweaty hips know nothing

And your sweaty hips know nothing
And your sweaty hips know nothing
And your sweaty hips know nothing