| One morning in Bolivia, the leader of the partisans
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| And two of his companions
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| Were forced to flee the mountains for their lives
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| Through green and dusty villages they sped along the little roads
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| The peasants smiled and shouted as they hurried by
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| Jesus called out to every one, «Don't think that we are leaving
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| They only tried to frighten us with guns, we shall return»
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| Continue with your work
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| Continue with your talk
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| You have it in your hands
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| To own your lives, to own your lands
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| The people smiled and shouted
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| And they ran along a little while
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| Then stood and watched
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| Their hands were restless and empty
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| The body of Jesus was in the jeep
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| That they blew up before it reached the plane
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| The priest was proud to bless him
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| For what there was of him remaining in the afternoon
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| Continue with your work
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| Continue with your talk
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| You have it in your hands
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| To own your lives, to own your lands
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| There is no one who can show you
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| The road you should be on
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| They only tell you, they can show you
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| And then tomorrow they are gone
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| The smell of oil and incense fill the room in this adobe hut
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| Where on the table lies the body of a man
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| His face is pale and young, his beard is dark and curled
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| Pennies hold his eyelids from the evening light
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| People from the village those who knew him, those who killed him
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| Stand inside the door, their hands are restless and empty
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| They watch the priest make silent crosses in the air
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| And pray to God inside their hearts for their own souls
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| Continue with your work
|
| Continue with your talk
|
| You have it in your hands
|
| To own your lives, to own your lands
|
| There is no one who can show you
|
| The road you should be on
|
| They only tell you, they can show you
|
| And then tomorrow they are gone
|
| Continue with your work
|
| Continue with your talk
|
| You have it in your hands
|
| To own your lives, to own your lands
|
| There is no one who can show you
|
| The road you should be on
|
| They only tell you, they can show you
|
| And then tomorrow they are gone
|
| Continue with your work
|
| Continue with your talk
|
| You have it in your hands
|
| To own your lives, to own your lands
|
| There is no one who can show you
|
| The road you should be on
|
| They only tell you, they can show you
|
| And then tomorrow they are gone
|
| Continue with your work
|
| Continue with your talk
|
| You have it in your hands
|
| To own your lives, to own your lands |