You’re complaining, but why are you complaining?
Pick up a stick and bare your teeth.
You’re complaining, but why are you complaining?
Pick up a stick and bare your teeth.
You’re complaining, but why are you complaining?
Pick up a stick and bare your teeth.

Long ago, in a square, a servant
was praying to Christ on the cross, and was telling him:
«Christ, my master treats me bad,
he treats me like a dog in the street.
He takes everything with his filthy hand,
he says that not even my own life is mine.
Destroy it, Jesus, this wicked breed!
Destroy it, Jesus, do it for me! Do it for me!»

You’re complaining, but why are you complaining?
Pick up a stick and bare your teeth.
You’re complaining, but why are you complaining?
Pick up a stick and bare your teeth.

And Christ answers me back from the cross:
‹Why? Did your arms break?
People who want justice must do it by themselves.
Nobody will do it for you anymore.

If you are a man and are not crazy in the head,
listen carefully to this sentence of mine,
’cause I wouldn’t be nailed on a cross
if I had done what I’m telling you to do,
’cause I wouldn’t be nailed on a cross.›

You’re complaining, but why are you complaining?
Pick up a stick and bare your teeth.
You’re complaining, but why are you complaining?
Pick up a stick and bare your teeth.
You’re complaining, but why are you complaining?
Pick up a stick and bare your teeth.
You’re complaining, but why are you complaining?
Pick up a stick and bare your teeth.
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