Dice Are Rolling - Michael Cerveris/Elena Roger/Ricky Martin

Lyrics by：Tim Rice

Composed by：Andrew Lloyd-Webber

Produced by：Andrew Lloyd-Webber/Nigel Wright

Dice are rolling the knives are out

I see every bad sign in the book

And as far as they can-overweight to a man

They have that lean and hungry look

But we still have the magic we've always had

The descamisados still worship me

We arrived thanks to them and no-one else

No thanks to your generals-a clutch of stuffed cuckoos

It's not a question of a big

Parade proving we're big with the mobs on the street

You're wrong-the people my people

The people belong to no-one

They are fickle can be manipulated they don't matter

However much they love you now it matters more that

As far as my stuffed cuckoos are concerned you don't politically exist

So I don't exist so I count for nothing

Try saying that on the street

When all over the world I am Argentina

Most of your generals wouldn't be recognized

By their own mothers

But they'll admit I exist when I become vice-president

That won't work we've been through all of this before

They'd fight you tooth and nail-you'd never overcome

Them with a hundred rallies and even if you did

Yes

Your little body's slowly breaking down

You're losing speed you're losing strength-not style-that goes on

Flourishing forever but your eyes your smile

Do not have the sparkle of their fantastic past

If you climb one more mountain it could be your last

I'm not that ill-bad moments come but they go

Some days are fine some a little bit harder

But that doesn't mean

I should change my routine

Have you ever seen

Me defeated

Don't you forget what I've been through and yet

I'm still standing

And if I am ill-that could even be to your advantage

Advantage I'm trying to point out that you are dying

This talk of death is chilling-of course you're not going to die

Then I must now be vice-president

And I shall have my people come to choose

Two Perons to wear their country's crowns

In thousands in my squares and avenues

Emptying their villages and towns

Where every soul in home or shack or stall

Knows me as Argentina-that is all

Oh I shall be a great vice-president

So what happens now

So what happens now

Where am I going to

Don't ask anymore