El Valor Que No Se Ve
me mandaban a callar, ya te recuperarás.
Mira un poco más allá, y verás que todo cambia,
piensa un poco en los demás, gana tus medallas.
No será fácil verlo asÃÂ, a través de tu propio ombligo,
busca lo positivo en tÃÂ, no será, créeme, tan infantil.
Me dices que para entender no sufràbastante,
tu mala vida llévata, tus cenizas cuidaré.
Y si réir te duele a tÃÂ, solo mÃÂrate tus muecas,
de tu
The Latin One
[ lyrics: Wilfred Owen/music: J.C. Lombardo ]
bent double like old beggars in sacks
knockkneed and cursing or coughing like hags
men marched on sleeping some without boots
fatigue drunken deaf still to the hoots
of breaking gas shells
dropping softly behind
but limped on bloodshod
all went lame all went blind
gas gas quick boys fumbling helmets in time
someone still screaming a man in fire or lime
under a grey cloud dim dark through green light
in all my dreaming before my helpless sight
he plunges at me
choking guttering drowning
put in a wagon he had to keep pace
as his eyes melt to his face
if you could hear blood
gurgling from ruptured lungs
if you could witness
vile sores on innocent tongues
you would not tell me
not with such pride and such zest
the lies of history
dulce et decorum est
pro patria mori
some desperate glory
pro patria mori
as witness disturbs the story
pro patria mori
stand firm boys breathe the glory