| I sing to the chillaneja
|
| If I have to say something
|
| And I don't take the guitar
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| for getting a round of applause
|
| I sing to the difference
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| What about the true to the false
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| Otherwise I don't sing
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| I'm going to talk to you right away
|
| Of a very alarming case
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| Attention the audience that goes
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| To swallow the purgative
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| now that we celebrate
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| The most gallant 18
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| The flag is a painkiller
|
| I spend the month of September
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| with a grown heart
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| Of grief and feeling
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| From seeing my people afflicted
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| And the people loving the country
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| and so unrequited
|
| The emblem by witness
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| In command is important
|
| Pledge of Allegiance
|
| Your words resonate with me
|
| Tricolor chains
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| With armed bailiffs
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| In squares and in malls
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| And in front of the churches
|
| Guardian Angels
|
| They came from another planet
|
| Because his cloudy look
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| Your bad party blood
|
| Unholy drums sound
|
| Bugles and balloons
|
| Painful the retreat
|
| I affirm, Mr. Minister, that
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| the truth is dead
|
| Today you swear falsely
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| For pure taste no more
|
| They deceive the innocent
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| without a need
|
| And above the freedom
|
| There goes the vicar
|
| With his word of him blessed
|
| could your holiness
|
| hear me a little word
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| The children are hungry
|
| give them a medal
|
| Or a little flag
|
| That's why your honor
|
| Says the wise Solomon
|
| There's discontent in heaven
|
| In Chuquilla, in Concepción
|
| The copihue no longer blooms
|
| And the hummingbird does not sing
|
| centennial of pain
|
| a wealthy gentleman
|
| Sharp as a dagger
|
| He looks at me with his eyes
|
| Of a mighty volcano
|
| And with golden lightning
|
| Swipe your charity
|
| Cueca of gold and freedom
|
| From above the moon shines
|
| With such bitter truth
|
| Luisa's house
|
| what expects motherhood
|
| Her screams reach the sky
|
| No one will listen to her
|
| at the national holiday
|
| Luisa has no home
|
| Not a candle, not a diaper
|
| The child was born in the hands
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| of which she is singing
|
| For a trail of blood
|
| Tomorrow he will go to the (?)
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| National bitter cueca
|
| The most outstanding date
|
| The flag is going to wave
|
| Luisa has no home
|
| the military parade
|
| And if Luisa goes to the park
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| Where is she going to return?
|
| Cueca sad national
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| I am the chillaneja
|
| gentlemen to sing
|
| If I raise my cry
|
| It's not just for yelling
|
| pardon the auditorium
|
| If you offend my charity
|
| Long military cueca |