Mou-te, mou-te, mou-te i no paris de moure't, tan se'n fot si és amb tren o amb cotxe En aquest vida, moure's és important, mou-te ben lluny de l'Espanyistán Perquè vols una casa si et faran fora? Perquè vols una feina si mai surts a l'hora? Perquè vols tants diners si no te'ls pots gastar? Perquè vols quedar-te aquí si el món és tan gran? Voltes i voltes, el món va donant vooooltes! Ves a fer el turista, no facis el burro Fes tres mil fotos que pots trobar a Internet, visita el món abans que tot faci un pet Perquè et preocupes del que passa al teu barri? Passa la joventut viatjant a diari Ves a Paris, a Londres i a Paris un altre cop, Bitllets megabarats, segur que no ho has vist tot Quan la gent pregunti "qui és aquell vell del bloc?", diràs orgullós que ets un ciutadà del món, que ho has vist tot però no t'has quedat amb res, sense casa, sense feina ni diners. I sense amics, sense familia ni parents, sense ningú que et presti un sentiment. Ets un ésser turístic, un modern Willy Fog, ets un fantasma que no pertany enlloc Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! --- MOVE! Move, move, move and don't stop moving, it doesn't matter if it's by train or by car In this life, moving is important, move away from Spainstan Why do you want a house if you're going to be kicked out? Why do you want a job if you never leave on time? Why do you want so much money if you can't spend it? Why do you want to stay here if the world is so big? Round and round, the world goes round and round! Be the tourist, don't be the ass Take three thousand photos that you can find on the Internet, visit the world before it all farts Why do you care about what happens in your neighborhood? Spend his youth traveling daily Go to Paris, London and Paris once again, mega cheap tickets, I'm sure you haven't seen it all When people ask "who's that old man from the block?", you'll proudly say that you're a citizen of the world, that you've seen it all but kept nothing, no home, no job, no money. No friends, no family nor relatives, noone to lend you a feeling. You are a tourist being, a modern Willy Fog, you are a ghost who belongs nowhere. Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!

Hi ha un esclafit i no és un plor el dia que un polític mor, la gent del món se’n fa un panxó el dia que un polític mor. Hi ha un decalatge inherent entre el real sentir de la gent i el que fan veure els mitjans, una contradicció important. Bon moment per trucar al camell, el dia que un polític mor, truca al Just Eat que portin Rondel, el dia que un polític mor. Hi ha fogueres per tot arreu, la gent crema caixers, es converteix la merda en or, la llibertat és ser un porc. Ningú plora, tot és goig, el dia que un polític mor. Ha quedat tot buit un escó, el dia que un polític mor. Només hi ha un únic sentiment que es mori el següent. --- THE DAY A POLITICIAN DIES There is a scream and it is not a cry the day a politician dies, the people of the world are sick of it the day a politician dies. There is an inherent lag between the real feeling of the people and what the media shows, an important contradiction. A good day to call the dealer, the day a politician dies, call Just Eat to bring Rondel, the day a politician dies. There are bonfires everywhere, people burn cashiers, shit turns to gold freedom is being a pig. No one cries, all is joy, the day a politician dies. A seat has been left empty, the day a politician dies. There is only one feeling left let the next one die.