Coup d'état in Chile
Kissinger's CIA
Well-armed gangs of Fascists
Augusto Pinochet
They took the students from the campus
Shot em in a line
The bitter fruits of progress
Rotting on the vine
Victor Jara died a hero
In an economic war
His fingers crushed and broken
He lay singing on the floor
I'm sickened by this history
My country's bloody hands
To market fruit and copper
They filled the stadium
You know your wife smuggled out your records
With a Swedish TV crew
Got 'em re-repented in Europe
Resurrected you
Now there's beautiful social centers
That never knew your name
That sprouted from the survivors
Driven out by Pinochet
And your songs are still sung around the world today
I've never been to Chile
Never smelled the air
Never felt the force of history
That's buried there
But I've heard Violeta Parra's
Porque Los Pobres No Tinenen
Seen the exiles in La Péna
Singing A Desalambrar
I don 't wanna be a hero
I don't wanna die alone
I wanna be a wise man
I wanna see how much we grow
"What horror fascism creates!
They carry out their plans
With knife-like precision.
Nothing matters to them
To them, blood equals medals,
Slaughter, an act of heroism.
Oh God, is this the world that you made
For this your seven days of wonder?"
Victor Jara died in Chile
But his songs survived
He sang the culture of a movement
Who's dream is still alive
And his songs are still sung around the world today