Walked through the black of the night Slipped through the ink of the dead co*ked his beret so the pain in his head left his eyes And traveled straight to his dreams, his dreams Wrestled with taking his life Remembered the land that he farmed His children's lithe spirits dissolved in his arms, his aching arms His patience has gone, the fever begins to burn a vengeance, to brand a life within, it sears, it sears.... To feel the pain, to trust the pain: Tristeza, donde estas? I woke to a dream about smoke Suffocation, then laughter, a little, then light, then the slamming of doors, the hiding in barrels The acid-gouged face of nostalgia was waiting for fire, for fire Smashed the window wide, checked for life inside Found a badge that blared for no one Whose child is this? Whose home is this? Whose soul is this? The CAUSE Pulling amnesia through cases of wine The amplification of the broad and the narrow and the few left behind The few left behind The strength of the sighs of the few left behind Historia habla siempre de los muertos Y de las vacas negras con flores rojas No quiero ser una hormiga en las bocas de los muertos Aqui tengo el martillo para romper este vidrio brillante que celebra una cultura muerta Snapped like a photo in dreams, the pa**ing of light on a denser reminder of faded extinction The corners leak, the razing fire the crimson screams, the bloodless eyes Smashed the window wide, checked for life inside Found a badge that blared for no one, no one left... Cracked through the light, refracting the flash, The patience of time, and peace at last . . .