How nice to sit in the cine, where the picture of all the world dances before the eyes!
How nice if we could take all these things away from the foreigners, and possess them!
Take back our lands and silver and oil, take the trains and the factories and the automobiles
And play with them all the time!
How nice!
Oh, fools! Mexicans and peons!
Who are you, to be masters of machines which you cannot make?
Which you can only break!
Those that can make are masters of these machines.
Not you, poor boobs.