My land is made of pieces, the voices that murmur
truths
of people fleeing, which distrusts the
not see, and What you see is not spinning.
is a land of legends and songs, Modin
to live, to die with sentidiño,
land battles intestine
facing ruthless to their children.
There is no more God than death,
the rain soak the green pastures
the seller for the cost of supply side and
policeman comes in to patrol.
is the land of corn and marijuana,
lots of water, but even more wine,
takes advantage of the pork and everything
tolear the muzzle.
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