CORRIGER LES PAROLES
Paroles : Los Tigres Del Norte - Jaula de Oro (English Translation)
I am established here
In the United States, 10 years have now passed
In which I crossed wet and I don't have fixed papers
I keep being an illegal
I have my wife and my children
That I brought at a young age and they've now forgotten
My treasured Mexico, that I will never forget
And I cannot return
What purpose does money serve me if I am like a prisoner
Inside this great nation?
When I remember I even cry, and even though the cell is made of gold it doesn’t stop being a prison
"Listen to me, son. Would you like for us to go back to live in Mexico?"
“What you talkin' about dad? I don't wanna go back to Mexico, no way dad.”
My children don't talk with me
They've learned another language, and have forgotten Spanish
They think like Americans
They deny that they are Mexicans, although they have my color
From my job to my house
I don't know what's wrong with me, for although I am a man of the house
I barely leave to the streets, because I'm scared that they'll find me
And they can deport me
What purpose does money serve me if I am like a prisoner
Inside this great nation?
When I remember I even cry, and even though the cell is made of gold it doesn’t stop being a prison
In the United States, 10 years have now passed
In which I crossed wet and I don't have fixed papers
I keep being an illegal
I have my wife and my children
That I brought at a young age and they've now forgotten
My treasured Mexico, that I will never forget
And I cannot return
What purpose does money serve me if I am like a prisoner
Inside this great nation?
When I remember I even cry, and even though the cell is made of gold it doesn’t stop being a prison
"Listen to me, son. Would you like for us to go back to live in Mexico?"
“What you talkin' about dad? I don't wanna go back to Mexico, no way dad.”
My children don't talk with me
They've learned another language, and have forgotten Spanish
They think like Americans
They deny that they are Mexicans, although they have my color
From my job to my house
I don't know what's wrong with me, for although I am a man of the house
I barely leave to the streets, because I'm scared that they'll find me
And they can deport me
What purpose does money serve me if I am like a prisoner
Inside this great nation?
When I remember I even cry, and even though the cell is made of gold it doesn’t stop being a prison
