We are barefoot on the mud without boots Fuck, I stand still, the country is worth thinking about Just to think about it a little, we have to get sick Anarchic dispute, flow on instrumental Mental state, here for rent You learn it and sell yourself And then cry over the enemies We deserve a government of Galeotti Like for years we have deserved Andreotti With plots, corrupted The tricolor founded on certain deaths Our heroes have been killed and buried Even today the graves are desecrated The mind is not fed, here there is Quaresi But a foreign people like ours that decimates In front of some asshole of the church that recites Your 12-year-old daughter who cries at the cremation