La Mecha

Esta es la historia de aquel hombre
El que pudo ver
Condenado a la desmemoria
Pudo trascender

Junto a otros miles como él
Con cuerpos cansados de perder

Preparen espaldas con las que el tiempo soportar
Levanten miradas con las que el porvenir afrontar
Se escucha, se nombra, es cuestión de horas
Se grita, se implora, es cuestión de horas

Y esos hombres ya no lloran
Salieron a hacer la historia
Y miles de rosas arderán
En su memoria

Nace el tiempo para revelar
Las heridas sanadas con sal

Los miedosos no quieren mirar
Por encima de su realidad... para ignorar

Que hay estandartes
Justos y bellos
Que están escritos a sangre y sudor

Y hoy se alzan distantes del temor
Los valientes dueños del dolor

Del silencio emergerá
La mecha triunfal

Voy cargado
Con tus balas
Las que hoy 
Caeran sobre vos

Y ya es tarde
Para pedir perdón

The Fuse

This is the story of that man
The one that could see
Condemned to lack of memory
He could trascend

Along with thousands more like him
With bodies tired of losing

Ready your backs to support time
Sight up to confront times to come
It is heard, it's named, it's a matter of hours
It's shouted, it's begged, it's a matter of hours

And those men don't cry anymore
They are out to make history
And thousands of roses will burn
To their memories

The time is born to reveal
Wounds cured with salt

The cowards don't want to look
Over their reality... to ignore

That there are banners
Fair and beautiful
That were written with blood and sweat

And today they raise far from fear
The brave that own the pain

From silence will surface
The triumphal fuse

I am loaded
With your bullets
That today
Will fall on you

And now it's too late
To ask for forgiveness