Return to a land called paraiso, A place where a dying river ends. No birds there fly over paraiso, No space allows them to endure. The smoke that screens the air, The grass that's never there.
And if i could see a single bird, what a joy. I try to write some words and create A simple song to be heard By the rest of the world.
I live in this land called paraiso, In a house made of cardboard floors and walls. I learned to be free in paraiso, Free to claim anything i see. Matching rags for my clothes, Plastic bags for the cold.
And if empty cans were all i have, what a joy. I never fight to take someone Else's coins and live with fear Like the rest of the boys.
Paraiso, help me make a stand. Paraiso, take me by the hand Paraiso, make the world understand That if i could see a single bird, what a joy. This tired and hungry land could expect Some truth and hope and respect From the rest of the world.