Memorias Paganas

And the storm that covered the sky stopped
To make way for the fire that burns on the land
Fire that consumes stupid religions
Blind believers lost in their faith and ignorance

Whoever understands my words
Will hear in the vast south
The lament of souls free as the condor
Gliding over the Andes, caressing the
Cold wind and breathing the air of freedom

These warrior souls, dead for their cause
Fill my blood with pride that flows and burns
In my guts, vengeance for this race
Forgotten, who chose to die rather than be
Slaves and carry the weight of iron on their
Backs that would not bend before battles and
Tortures, before the fear of seeing their brothers
Fallen

Bleeding with their agonized gaze, crying
Tears of blood that stain their faces and
Cleanse their pagan memories
Free as the condor that glides over the Andes
Caressing the cold wind and breathing the air of
Freedom