Top and body of the falla:
The bad angel, the evil, on top of accounting books from earth
What a group of rascals
in few months they went to jail
a lot of work for tailors
sewing striped clothes
Spain has transformed
In a hell in life,
By damned politicians,
By corruption well-rotted.
Economy is stable
if accounts are clear
when the boss carries the weight,
of the major and the auxiliary
The losses and the gains,
All of it must be recorded,
The excess and the shortcomings,
Cannot be ignored.
Scenes:
The gate of the heaven
We see the gate of the heaven
Covered in spider webs.
How is it that a path of honey
Doesn’t even attract the ants?
Because the world is lost,
It only knows how to sin,
We are a kingdom of the lazy,
Until Saint Peter is ashamed.
The ill heart
Saddened by the fostering of
Holding onto an ill heart,
The people release their cries
And now they are heard
Who will switch on the wind-up toy,
And will keep the engine on?
Will it repeat the story
And become just as the rest?
One does the work
To get the profit
But before the rooster cackles
The profit escapes the place.
Neither do they know where they brought it from,
Nor why it has arrived here,
But it bellows the machine,
In a divine movement.
The singing heart and a pill of Sintrom (a cardiovascular medicine)
Sintrom is a product
So that the blood doesn’t clog
That is taken in a way
That is called, orally.
They are going to distribute for free,
Pills all over the place.
So that people sing and dance
And give their thanks to God.
Angel in a banner
The worst sin
All of you can see
Is an international sport
Is the sin of envy.
We don’t want bad workers,
And neither thieves, nor the jacket-stretchers,
The one who puffs and complains more is not better,
He has to have a quite hand.
The demon with a pot on his head
The demon is desperate,
His rooms are full
Of untouchable politicians
Who don’t pay the rent.
Overwhelmed by the flux of people,
He has to make an enlargement,
He doesn’t know how to find money,
For this many people.
Two children
These children made of cardboard,
Little angles came from heaven,
Looking for your vote,
But afterwards they lie to you.
Making a cute face
Their hands are clean at the moment.
When the light will be on,
The bad ideas
will arrive.
A pot with wings
Today the media,
Sells you glory,
In colorful flasks
That block your memory.
This one says that you’ll have wings,
After drinking one sip
You’ll feel a desire
To eat the wall.
Doll making campaign
The politics is full of,
Idols made of wood and mud,
Their stomachs are well-thankful,
But with an allergy to work.
And with this presentation,
They found a place in the cast system,
Thinking of their obligation,
Of taking all the money.
