My my mother in a mud brick room
She weaves her days on a blanket balloon I
face conscription when I reach eighteen
Old men starve and widows sigh
Behind the fences corn grows high
And every night there's a disco
For the bills and the marketeers
Backland owners know no shame
Franks and quaff champagne
In the hills they grow cocaine
For the dealers from the north
There's no grave for heroes here
Some speak out in tongue of fear
Every week more disappear
There's blood upon the re
Drawing straws for the whores
You learn to hustle, you learn to hate
Bolt the doors when squads patrol
And terror stalks the night
Suffer my country, children weep
People sow and the fascists reap
And conscience has no name
A new beginning or a hangman's rope
While caution slept, our courage wove
We took up arms, we took up hope
There's blood upon the rain
Cut your life in each short breath
Another skirmish, a nameless death
there's snipers in the trees
The mountain mists hide for years
Our silent power, bathing tears
The valley streams are poisoned
And the gunships scour the plains
Cock your rifle, mumble prayers
Lie in ambush, wet and scared
Dalai's stare and tequila loosens tongues
Feel the strength, feel the fire,
a nation caged behind barbed wire
A million hearts with one desire,
there's blood upon the rain
Compañeros, eyes that shine,
closest brothers we pass the wine
seize the time and fan the rising flame
Kill the beast, and life begins
Silently we spread our wings
If harvests fail, we reap the wind
