Return to a land called Paraiso,
a place where a dying river ends
No birds there fly over Paraiso,
no space allows them to endure
The smoke that screens the air,
the grass that's never there
And if I could see a single bird, what a joy
I try to write some words and create
a simple song to be heard
by the rest of the world
I live in this land called Paraiso,
in a house made of cardboard floors and walls
I learned to be free in Paraiso,
free to claim anything I see
Matching rags for my clothes,
plastic bags for the cold
And if empty cans were all I have, what a joy
I never fight to take someone
else's coins and live with fear
like the rest of the boys
Paraiso, help me make a stand
Paraiso, take me by the hand
Paraiso, make the world understand
that if I could see a single bird, what a joy
This tired and hungry land could expect
some truth and hope and respect
from the rest of the world