Mojique sees his village from a nearby hill
Mojique thinks of days before Americans came
He serves the foreigners in growing numbers
He sees the foreigners in fancy houses
He dreams of days that he can still remember now
Mojique holds a package in his quivering hands
Mojique sends the package to the American man
Softly he glides along the streets and alleys
Up comes the wind that makes them run for cover
He feels the time is surely now or never more
The wind in my heart, the wind in my heart
The dust in my head, the dust in my head
The wind in my heart, the wind in my heart
Come to drive them away, drive them away
The wind in my