Lyrics and translation Mundo Chillon feat. El Gran Wyoming - Vendedor de Patrias

Vendedor de Patrias

No quiero patria, no compro ninguna de esa marca adulterada por la caradura.
No me importa lo que pueda vender,
Seguramente está muy bien para usted.
A mi los símbolos fríos no logran excitarme,
Tengo mil cosas mejores en las que ocuparme que echar cuentas al catálogo que me trae usted.

Le traigo;
Patrias grandes, patrias chicas,
Patrias pobres, patrias ricas,
Patrias que las trajo el viento,
Patrias que ha quemado el tiempo,
Patrias que ciñen fronteras,
Patrias que visten banderas,
Patrias muertas, patrias vivas,
Patrias tuertas, patrias divas.

Tengo mil razones para decir que no
Aunque con la oferta me traiga usted un reloj.
Vendedor de patrias macabro perdedor,
Filtrador de razas, larva de dictador.
No me va a convencer que existe el eje del bien
Mientras alquila compra y vende la fe.
No moleste más.
No voy a comprar.

Que yo no tengo miopía, tampoco astigmatismo y jamás he padecido de nacionalismo pero hay algo que no pude lograr,
Llegar a ser una persona formal.
Porque elogiando a mi tierra yo me quedo solo es pequeña, redondita, chata por los polos, gran naturaleza por eso hay tanto animal.

Les traigo; patrias desparasitadas, garantía certificada,
Llenas de gente cebada de hamburguesas y baladas,
Con tres cabezas pensantes, diez millones de currantes,
Todos a tirar p'alante, mariquita el que no aguante.

Tengo mil razones para decir que no
Aunque con la oferta me traiga usted un reloj.
Vendedor de patrias macabro perdedor,
Filtrador de razas, larva de dictador.
No me va a convencer que existe el eje del bien
Mientras alquila compra y vende la fe.
No moleste más.
No voy a comprar.

No moleste más, no moleste más, no moleste más amigo.
Yo se que el centro del mundo queda lejos de mi ombligo
No moleste más, no moleste más, no moleste a más personas.
Si a usted le gusta su patria, ahí con su pan se la coma.

No moleste más, no moleste más, no golpee más mi puerta,
Que de lunes a domingo, yo siempre la tengo abierta.

No moleste más, no moleste más que ahora mismo ya nos vamos
Donde no haya tercer mundo, ni política, ni paro.
No voy a comprar.

Y al final, las bombas quedan y el marine se va,
Niños que juegan las detonaran.
La vida sigue igual.

Seller of Fatherlands

I don't want a fatherland. I won't buy any brand contaminated by your brashness.
I don't care what you might sell.
It's probably very good for you.
Cold symbols don't turn me on.
I've got a thousand better things to do than to bother with the catalogue you brought me.

I bring you;
Big fatherlands, small fatherlands.
Poor fatherlands, rich fatherlands.
Fatherlands that the wind brought,
Fatherlands that time has burned,
Fatherlands that surround frontiers,
Fatherlands that wear flags.
Fatherlands dead, fatherlands alive,
Fatherlands one-eyed, fatherlands divas.

I've got a thousand reasons to say no,
Even if you bring me a watch with the offer.
Seller of fatherlands, macabre loser,
Racist, larva of a dictator.
You're not going to convince me that there is an axis of good
While you rent, buy and sell the faith.
Don't bother me anymore.
I'm not going to buy.

I don't have myopia, or astigmatism either, and I've never suffered from nationalism, but there's something I could never achieve:
Becoming a formal person.
Because by praising my land I isolate myself: it's small, round, flat at the poles, but with a great nature, that's why there are so many animals.

I bring you; fatherlands free of parasites, certified guarantee,
Full of people fattened on hamburgers and ballads,
With three thinking heads, ten million workers,
All pulling together. If you can't keep up, you're a sissy.

I've got a thousand reasons to say no,
Even if you bring me a watch with the offer.
Seller of fatherlands, macabre loser,
Racist, larva of a dictator.
You're not going to convince me that there is an axis of good
While you rent, buy and sell the faith.
Don't bother me anymore.
I'm not going to buy.

Don't bother me anymore, don't bother me anymore, don't bother me anymore, my friend.
I know that the center of the world is far from my belly-button.
Don't bother me anymore, don't bother me anymore, don't bother more people.
If you like your fatherland, eat it with your own bread.

Don't bother me anymore, don't bother me anymore, don't knock at my door again,
Because from Monday to Sunday, I always keep it open.

Don't bother me anymore, don't bother me anymore, now we're going away,
Where there is no third world, or politics, or unemployment.
I'm not going to buy.

And in the end, the bombs stay and the marine goes away.
Children playing will detonate them.
Life goes on as usual.