Letra de Exile

In big crowds, critical states Long queues - go Heavy stress, cruel pains Poor people - are From their land escape Blind wretched, looking for their way No sympathy at all Heavy destroyed, learned the cruel truth Do not want their rulers Robbed poor, recognize their belief In ears the only sound Harsh painful and bloody fight From the misery people are running away Hope and belief do not die Hungry and tired going to the ground Feeling the cruel misery on the bodies Last the time / exile zone