Políticamente Incorrecta

I like to dance, revolutionize, wake up
Spill my poetry over an instrumental
Perennial rebel, my muses are women
I carry all my deaths and my lives marked in ink
Incorrect, I like to make you uncomfortable
That's my art, penetrate you with words
Make an omelet with your poor stiff brains, rebellious verses
That make idiolects and anachronistic structures dance in your head
I'm not anonymous, I'm a feminist anarchist pirate on your speakers
Listen to me well, the submissive disguise flew away with the wind

Aha aha, I'm a warrior
Last dose on the radio, I'm politically incorrect

I am incorrect, my rebellious words
Proscribed verses I write with blood on the skin of my enemy
Here there is a fight, I'm rougher than Kaibil Balam
Every night I go down to smoke a cigar in Xibalba
This is obsidian poetry
Hard as stone, hot as magma
Brought directly from the underworld
A knife cutting prejudices in its path

Aha aha, I'm a warrior
Last dose on the radio, I'm politically incorrect

Maybe I don't come from the ghetto in the city
But since I was little they classified me as marginal
I asked, questioned, didn't accept
From a guerrilla family, what else did they expect?
They named me after my aunt's trail
Kidnapped by the army and disappeared
She taught me the art of letters
With poems that I now recite on the sidewalks
Tanks against intelligence in the eighties
Genocide to exterminate poets
Rebel blood flows in my veins
That's why I shout to the four winds even if death comes

Aha aha, I'm a warrior
Last dose on the radio, I'm politically incorrect

I am incorrect, my rebellious words
Proscribed verses I write with blood on the skin of my enemy
Here there is a fight, I'm rougher than Kaibil Balam
Every night I go down to smoke a cigar in Xibalba
This is obsidian poetry
Hard as stone, hot as magma
Brought directly from the underworld
A knife cutting prejudices in its path