How can it be that everything is upside down
how poorer is the one who works all day
than the one who sells cocaine
than the neighborhood politician
who doesn't go through the slums since he has a position.
How can it be that from outside we are told
how much to eat, how much we should shrink our bellies
how much meat, how much flour, how many dreams we send them
how much adjustment they send us, what a way to pay us.
Let them tell me that I am an angel from the past
let them laugh because it doesn't enter my head
that the master and the jackal became good vegetarian
and shares food with his prey
How can it be that someone who steals a chicken
goes to prison for a month and the person who stole thousands of lives
they make amnesties and leave them clean and free
hoping that one day they will make a monument for them.
How can it be that their consciences are clear
how do they sleep well when they are such a big piece of filth
condemned for life, for the judges for the people,
for the children of Malvinas, for the living and the dead
Let them tell me that I am an angel from the past
I carry my memory tied to one wing
and on the other, the hugs that I owe to my brothers, those who did something to change history. Let them tell me that I am an angel from the past, I am a demon, I am a ghost or anything. br/>I am the faith that they taught me without shirts, without deceptions,
and I follow it even if it is no longer fashionable.

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