I carried you in my arms
Through the hotel to our room
The night was filled with music
Those old historic tunes
Songs of revolution
Filled our hearts and fed our souls
As the fireworks exploded
Like those cannons long ago

Five hundred wooden saints below
Their colors cracked and dry
You said their stories should be told
Did they suffer when they died
Give us your tradition
Give us hope and send us home
We'll be the cracked bells tolling
the voice of dust and bones

The pillow that you dream on
Lies rolled up on the floor
You tossed it at the TV screen
At the drug lord and his war
Thinking of the courtyard
Forced a tear from your eyes
The white shirts in the moonlight
The warm forgiving smiles