| The air takes the form of a tornado
|
| And they are tied to it
|
| death and love
|
| A dark column rises
|
| And the children are ripped
|
| One pull games
|
| Grandma your scissors are rural
|
| And they cut other evils
|
| But this wind, no
|
| Save your sentence, old friend
|
| E summons Peralejo
|
| What suits us best?
|
| No one is going to die, except now
|
| That this holy woman frowns
|
| No one is going to die, the whole life
|
| It's a brief second of your dream
|
| No one is going to die, the whole life
|
| It's our talisman, it's our cloak
|
| No one is going to die, except now
|
| That the song of the Homeland is our song
|
| In front of the column, in front
|
| Where have you always traveled
|
| The sight of the rifle
|
| Let the fertile aim speak
|
| That throat sends
|
| my way of living
|
| With death all things true
|
| They carved a door
|
| in the middle of april
|
| With the homeland has been drawn
|
| The name of the soul of men
|
| that they are not going to die
|
| No one is going to die, except now
|
| That this holy woman frowns
|
| No one is going to die, the whole life
|
| It's a brief second of your dream
|
| No one is going to die, the whole life
|
| It's our talisman, it's our cloak
|
| No one is going to die, except now
|
| That the song of the Homeland is our song |