Argentina

The ground is shaking,
Everyone's broken; nowhere to go,
The telephone line wired,
Nowhere to run; no privacy,
Streets filled with corpses,
Minds filled with hatres,
Passion and paranoia.

Wounds filled with salt,
Words on the wall
Keeping the faith,
That seems to be disappearing,
The cuts, scars and bullet wounds
On every hard working peasant,
Things will change,
The front office will be gone.

Everything crumbling,
The Majorca punishing
The weak; the opposition,
A line in the sand,
Crossed to many times,
Time to take action,
Destroy injustic and inequality.