On the eighth day, God, after working so much
To blow off some steam, once he'd reviewed it all
He said everything is very good, it's time to rest
And he went for a stroll through outer space
Who would have imagined that God himself, upon returning
He would find everything in a hellish disorder
That he would become another unemployed man
Adding to the rate that grows annually without stopping
Since then, there are those who have seen him
Just wandering through the streets
He's been patiently waiting for someone
With whom he could at least have a peaceful chat
Meanwhile, this world spins and spins, unable to be stopped
And down here, a few people manipulate us
I'm not the kind of idiot who's easily convinced
And even a blind person can see it
If, from a lack of occupation
If God couldn't take it anymore
And left for another place
There would be no other remedy left
Than to worship Michael Jackson
It's more difficult to be a king without a crown
Than just a regular person
Poor God, who doesn't appear in magazines
Who's not a model, an artist, or from a royal family
Meanwhile, this world spins and spins
Without being able to stop it
And down here, a few people manipulate us
I'm not the kind of idiot who's easily convinced
And even a blind person can see it
Meanwhile, this world spins and spins
Without being able to stop it
And down here, a few people manipulate us
I'm not the kind of idiot who's easily convinced
And even a blind person can see it