It happens somewhere on a bus in Lima/
When you begin to see the world isn't gold/
When you behold a seven year old dancing for change with no parents/
And realize the world isn't shocked at her appearance/
Matter of fact, you wouldn't reach for change yourself/
Cause you're a selfish bastard with your Amerikan wealth/
And you look down upon the downtrodden withdrawn/
From the neo-liberal economic system you spawned/
On..the shores of Latin American maps/
Like NAFTA caused the Mexican economic collapse/
These are facts/
That you don't know/
..So you go off/
When they cross deserts looking for livelihoods that they lost/
But..if it were you, you would be here too/
How can you blame a family that's trying to work for food/
And feed their kids' faces/
Racists need to recognize/
That Amerika survives on the labor that we provide.
(Chorus)
How can you call yourself a man/
How can you call us the immigrant when you're living in our ancestral land/
This bloods buried in every river, valley and moutaintop/
...Thousands of years before you ever came to Plymouth Rock/
This is the story of our people/
Who built the city of Macchu Piccu/
And the temples of Chitzen Itza/
Historical legacy that ain't related to you/
So you fear the word "Aztlan" cause you know that it's true/
Our people were murdered/
...Sons were turned into slaves/
And still today we work for minimum wage/
In a capitalistic system that exploits to survive/
Atom, reporting live from Anahuac, the occupied.
(Chorus)
La Lucha sera larga y dificil/
Pero la continuaremos is how I feel/
Cause the struggle is our obligation/
If you ain't fighting for, well then you're holding back your people some more/
We need to move forward/
First we need to chill with the beef/
Like being trapped inside a slaughterhouse with frozen meat/
..It's counter-productive/
We need to make change/
But you can't when you're living off your mom at your age/
Education is key/
..So how're you gonna make moves/
When you can't add, read, subtract or pay dues/
Gotta finance our own campaigns to make change/
And buy up our own politicians like brand-names/
Amerika the Whore, concerned with only wealth/
Turns away the poor, whenever they knock on her door/
..This song is dedicated to my people/
Every field laborer, Zapatista soldier and campesino
