They ask me where I was born
like if the place where I come from..
makes me less than a person.
And I want to yell my answer:
My country is that malevolent cancer,
that dwells in the America Central
just north of the Panama Canal,
Small in size but full of maggots and lice,
that occupy the highest position in government...
those who have forgotten the people they represent
those who sell their soul to commit high treason
Those for whom money is the only reason
those whose place is reserved for them in hell my country has no shame long ago that fell because the rich keep winning
for them there's nothing wrong in sinning while in the ground there's the poor with their head spinning
trying to keep up with the news at a neck breaking pace
Cus you see down in my country the problem is not race
it's the fact that we find severed heads in the park
and you don't have to wait till it gets dark
at 11 a.m. you hear cries and screams
violence in my country never rest it seems
cuz down in my country being a gangster doesn't mean tagging in buses
It means showing Society its losses
it means chopping up people and leaving their corpses in different parts of the city
It means Letting Go...