I don’t want to know how to win, I only want to know how to grow.
We swear that the tumor only grows on the Devil, but it grows on our Land.
Her soul was ripped of it’s property and we are ripped of our choice.
Like a child forcibly ripped off an umbilical cord, we are bleeding, crying, naked on the dirty floor of the crumbling home we are cursed to.
The waves of torment keep growing and it washes our faces off, our painted faces of patriotism and sad, sad hope.
Slowly then, we are left without crying eyes, without sewn lips, without bleeding ears, and our heart? I believe that was ripped out years ago.
Now I only know to tell us, the people, to keep shutting our eyes to keep the water from blinding us, for we are a people of love and liberty.
A people against the towering red war tanks that destroy the growing flowers of peace we are meant to nurture. The towering red rain that drowns our hearts in hate.
Let’s climb the watchtowers of Nature and hail to her mercy and forgiveness, for even though we have noble intentions, we know not how to win the tricked Mother.
She is tricked and we must free her. Free her from the devilish ties that the witches of Cuban shores have forced against her.
Today we cry. But tomorrow we fight. Today we don’t die, today we keep on living.