La Guerrilla Frustada

What happens to you
Is that the progressive term is too small for you
And you would have liked to be a commander in the Sandinista front.
What happens to you
Is that being progressive in bars sometimes doesn't suit you
And you would have liked to come down from the mountains with Daniel Ortega.
What happens to you
Is that alcohol and crap take you out of this world
And you could never even reach the barracks of the Farabundo front.
What happens to you
Is that Fidel and Guevara didn't leave you any samples.
What happens to you
Is that you arrived late to the Sierra Maestra.

There's nothing to do
If you're not a guerrilla in the world
They're sacred cows.
And you are not, my love
More than a frustrated guerrilla.
So stay in your bed
Like a profane cow.
There's nothing to do
Former guerrillas run for elections
But if what you want is justice and emotions
I'll be here waiting for you
To start revealing ourselves.

So don't waste any more time deciphering ideological nonsense.
Get yourself a gun, a green uniform, and a balaclava.
And buy a ticket, and go to Chiapas, with a tourist visa.
And ask for an audience with Subcomandante Marcos, the one from the Zapatistas.
And if the tactics used fail you there
And things get tough
The only thing left is to sweeten the deal for Comrade Gonzalo.
And even if you're not a Maoist, and you like Vargas Llosa
I already have your outline
As a sniper, or leading a command in the Shining Path.

What happens to you
Is that the progressive term is too small for you.