One morning in bolivia
the leader of the partisans and two of his companions
were forced to flee the mountains for their lives
through green and dusty villages they sped along the little roads
the peasants smiled and shouted as they hurried by
jesus called out to every one "don't think that we are leaving,
they only tried to frighten us with guns, we shall return,"
continue with your work, continue with your talk
you have it in your hand to own your life to own your land
the people smiled and shouted and they ran along a little while
the stood and watched, their hands were restless and empty
the body of jesus was in the jeep that they blew up
before it reach the plane
The priest was proud to bless himfor what there was
of him remaining in the afternoon
Continue with your work, continue with your talk
you have it in your hands to own your life to own your land
there is no one who can show you the road you should be on
they only tell you they can show you and then tomorrow they are gone
The smell of oil and incense fill the room in this adobe hut
where on the table lies the body of a man
his face is pale and young, his beard is dark and curled
pennies hold his eyelids from the evening light
people from the village those who knew him, those who killed him
stand inside the door, their hands are restless and empty
they watch the priest make silent crosses in the air
and pray to god inside their hearts for their own souls
Continue with your work, continue with your talk
you have it in your hands to own your life to own your land
there is no one who can show you the road you should be on
they only tell you they can show you and then tomorrow they are gone