Play on Your Harp
Morning comes, she follows the path to the river shore,
Lightly sung, her song is the latch on the morning's door.
See the sun sparkle in the reeds, silver beads, pass into the sea.
She comes from a town where they call her the woodcutter's daughter,
She's brown as the bank where she kneels down to gather her water, and
She bears it away with a love that the river has taught her.
Let it flow, greatly grow, wide and clear.
Round and round, the cut of the plow in the furrowed field,
Seasons round, the bushels of corn and the barley meal,
Broken ground, open
Lightly sung, her song is the latch on the morning's door.
See the sun sparkle in the reeds, silver beads, pass into the sea.
She comes from a town where they call her the woodcutter's daughter,
She's brown as the bank where she kneels down to gather her water, and
She bears it away with a love that the river has taught her.
Let it flow, greatly grow, wide and clear.
Round and round, the cut of the plow in the furrowed field,
Seasons round, the bushels of corn and the barley meal,
Broken ground, open
9: Failed Territory
En busca de putas en la cuidad
Soldados con cuernos duro
Wild at heart, now we show our true colors
In the path of desperation, we forget about our brothers
Who would die for us, now, we die for no man
Deranged from the instance, violence came too hard
Instinctual behavior in the given situation
Leaves us with no call for rationalization