The air takes the shape of a tornado
and in the van tied death and love
a dark column rises
and the children are torn
the games at a stretch.
Grandmother, your scissors are rural and cut other evils
but this wind do not keep your prayer, old friend
invokes Paralejo that does not come better.
No one is going to die
Less now
that that sacred woman
tilt the frown
nobody is going to die, life all
It is a brief second of your dreams.
No one is going to die, the whole life is our talisman
is our cloak nobody is going to die, less now
that the song of the country is our song.
In front of the column, to the front where he has always traveled
the sight of the rifle that speaks the fertile marksmanship
That throat sends my way of life.
With death all things certain
They recorded a door in the middle of April
with the country the name has been drawn
of the soul of men who are not going to die.
No one is going to die ...
Only among all we can make this a better place :)