Lyrics of 'Pobre, Pobre' by Los Muertos de Cristo

Pobres, pobres, pobres.
Pobres, pobres, pobres.
¡Más!

Pobres, pobres, pobres.
Pobres, pobres, pobres.
y pobres, pobres, pobres.

Siempre seré pobre, mientras haya ricos,
poderes y grandeza, reyes y nobleza
¿por qué?

Luchemos contra ellos,
no seremos plebeyos,
el pueblo siempre libre será.

Ricos, ricos, ricos
Ricos, ricos, ricos
Ricos, ricos, ricos
y ricos, ricos, ricos

que tiemblen los ricos, los pobres ya no aguantan,
los pobres se levantan
ya rugen sus gargantas
¿por qué?

Muchos hemos soportado, vuestro terror
de estado ahora no me pienso callar.

Hombres y mujeres quememos esas leyes que protegen al capital.

El estado está muerto, se acabó el sufrir más,
rompamos esas cadenas por nuestra libertad

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