Letras
A Spanish prisoner, given the chance to be free as a Conquistador
Finds himself in the so-called "new world" without his Spanish woman
And among conquest subjects already perceived as subhuman
He picks and chooses an indigenous woman, he rapes her, and has children
These children he does not care for, for they are "half-human"
He beats a woman when she refuses his orders, he abuses the children when he wants to and when they get in his way
And now 502 years later, the descendants of the ultimate dysfunctionalism- a blueprint for the colonized
Seven generations of the cycle of illness, of people without heads, without an identity
Without a direction, without an understanding, and without a connection
Torn from their mother and raped by their father
Now lost in a sea of white, they begin to recover
Recognize their identity and their connection to these roots
These roots that run deep
Deep in the soul of our mother
'Who am I?' Is the question, now I'm looking to the sky
Or is the question really why, where do I fit, souls have been ripped in half apart
No pulse coming from my heart, I live, and yet I'm dead
To live or exist, I cut off my head
In chained look to my blood, and blame my very mind- my head of course
'Cause you know it's gone insane, my blood is red
My blood is red
Quinientos años de tu confusión
Y vives sordo y suego en una illusion
Pero a culpa no es tuya, es de las culebras: los blancos Europeos quien nos robaron a las tierras
Y siguen controlando por todo el mundo
Me llaman ilegal y con esto me confundo
Recuerda gringo los tierras nos has robado
Y entonces, gringo, tu eres el gran mojado
Mi sangre es colorada, yo soy humano
My blood is red
Steadfast oozing from my head
Emancipated from my body, it had to be shed
So I picture myself in the roses of my bed
I cannot seem to escape this color that I bled
So, do you know if this will erase my past at long last?
Is freedom from myself a shot gunblast?
Confusion reigns in my thoughts, my head obsecting while my body