Vientos de Poder

Winds of power
in the final twilight guide the journey.
That more than one has surrendered to the Inca dust,
show the reports of vigilant control.

The dome stirs to show decency
and many vigilantes open their legs.
The emerging structure wobbles
in a bubbling orgy of black magic.

The aged poor follow the procession
with silent instinct of deprivation.
I don't sell songs of sold love,
in what I am, I stand my ground and don't chase myself.

If I get caught in the bone nets,
for sure, being poor, they will make me pay the bill.
But I am not defeated, I still have strength
to give my message of resistance.

I will continue next to the metal with my message
I will hesitate if you are not on this journey.
On this journey.

I will continue next to the metal with my message
I will hesitate if you are not on this journey.
On this journey.