The Xuetes (Catalan pronunciation: [ʃuˈətə]; singular Xueta, also known as Xuetons and spelled as Chuetas), were a social group on the island of Majorca, descendants of Majorcan Jews who either converted to Christianity or were forced to keep their religion hidden. They practiced strict endogamy. Many of their descendants observe a syncretist form of Christian worship.
The Xuetes were stigmatized up until the first half of the 20th century. In the latter part of the century, the spread of religious freedom and laicism reduced both the social pressure and community ties. An estimated 18,000 people in the island carry Xueta surnames in the 21st century, but only a small fraction of the society (including those with Xueta surnames) is aware of the complex history of this group.
The Balearic word xueta derives, according to some experts, from juetó, diminutive of jueu ("Jew") which give xuetó, a term that also still survives. Other authors consider that it may derive from the word xulla (pronounced xuia or xua, which means a type of salted bacon and, by extension, pork) and, according to popular belief, refers to Xuetes who were seen eating pork to show that they did not practice Judaism. But this etymology has also been linked with the tendency, present in various cultures, of using offensive names related to pork to designate Jews and Jewish converts (see, for example Marrano). A third possibility links both putative etymologies; the word xuia may have provoked the substitution of the j of juetó by the x of xuetó, and xueta could have been imposed over xuetó by the greater phonetic resemblance with xuia.
Love is like oxygen
You get too much you get too high
Not enough and you're gonna die
Love gets you high
Love is like oxygen
. . .
Time on my side
I got it all
I've heard that pride
Always comes before a fall
There's a rumour goin' round the town
That you don't want me around
I can't shake off my city blues
Every way I turn I lose
Love is like oxygen
. . .
Love is like oxygen
. . .
Time is no healer
If you're not there
Lonely fever
Sad words in the air
Some things are better left unsaid
I'm gonna spend my days in bed
I'll walk the streets at night
To be hidden by the city lights
City lights
Love is like oxygen
. . .
Love is like oxygen