I've heard the smell of burning flesh,
Never leaves your lungs,
Words unspoken,
That can never leave their tongues,
Born in blood and death in blood,
Todos los hijos,
Vivan en el rio de sangre.
La palome de Culiacan,
No puede respirar,
And her wings were clipped
At such a young age,
You only know what you feel,
What you can see,
What you believe,
The holy trinity of killing sensitivity.
The drums in my head
sound like gunshots,
The drums in my head
sound like screeching tires,
The drums in my head
keep pounding, pounding, pounding,
No tengo una pausa
De la bateria.
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