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Ché :
Oh what a circus!
Oh what a show!
Argentina has gone to town over the death of an actress called Eva Peron.
We've all gone crazy mourning all day and mourning all night, falling over
ourselves to get all of the misery right.
Oh what an exit!
That's how to go when they're ringing
your curtain down: Demand to be buried like Eva Peron.
It's quite a sunset and good for the country in around about way.
We've made the front page of all the world's papers today.
But who is this Santa Evita ?
Why all this howling, hysterical sorrow?
What kind of goddess has lived among us?
How will we ever get
by without her?
She had her moments.
She had some style.
The best show in town was the crowd outside the Casa Rosada crying "Eva
Peron".
But that's all gone now.
As soon as the smoke from the funeral clears, we're all gonna see and how she
did nothing for years!
You let
down your people,
Evita.
You were supposed to have been immortal.
That's all they wanted, not much to ask for.
But in the end you could not deliver.
Sing you fools, but you got it wrong.
Enjoy your prayers because you have not got long.
Your queen is dead.
Your king is through.
And she's not coming back to you.
Show business kept us all alive since seventeen October 1945.
But the star has gone.
The glamour's worn
thin.
That's a pretty bad state for a state to be in.
Instead of government, we had a stage.
Instead of ideas, a prima donna's rage.
Instead of help, we were given a crowd.
She didn't say much, but she said it loud.
Sing you fools, but you got it wrong.
Enjoy your prayers because you haven't got long.
Your queen is dead.
Your king is through.
She's not coming back to you.
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