⁣South American dream, on a northern trip
Centrered hit of arrival, still the fear of survival
Taken up with aeroplanes, brought down with a little dream
Empty hands in shallow graves, moth to a flame
Work for almost anything, love our families just the same
Hate with government to blame, we’ll take aim
We, have a voice, voice
Speak. Choice, choice
From the machete gun, boy you better run
Away from the sun, ya you turn to fractions
Hear me boy and run, run, run
Nothing left to lose, ya blood on the sun
Fills my soul, with my new life, and my daily goal
Such a small fence to climb, pain, dollar silver in mind
Can’t see, I’m not blind, all things come in time
We’ll stay out of trouble for fear for being brought back here this year
Fight with food with three to a bed, not till your dead
We, have a voice
Speak. choice, choice
From the machete gun, boy you better run
Away from the sun, ya you turn to fractions
Hear me boy and run, run, run