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I can only guess at where you came from |
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Did you grow up in the country |
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Did your father spend his days with a basket on his back |
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On someone's farm picking coffee |
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When he came home from the fields did he throw you on his shoulders |
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And take you on a pony ride |
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When you went to bed with no food in your belly |
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Did he hold you when you cried |
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How many of your siblings gave in to the hunger |
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That the healers couldn't save |
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How many bodies did you pull out from the river |
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For how many did you dig their grave |
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When did you decide to leave the village |
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Was it just something that you knew |
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Was it just time for you to go or did you know |
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Exactly what you set out to do |
|
(Chorus) |
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Every song I've written has been a love song |
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This one is just another |
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Song for the love of an unknown soldier |
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Did you spend years in the jungle fighting for your freedom |
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Fighting for your people's liberation |
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Did you watch your companeros die around you |
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While you held fast to your vocation |
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Did you make rocket launchers in your rebel hideouts |
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Like your mother made papusas |
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Did you dream the dreams of La Pasionaria |
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Or those of Poncho Villa |
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(Chorus) |
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All I know is that I saw you on a rooftop in the city |
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In a photo on the cover of the Times |
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Long black hair flowing down, a machine gun in your hand |
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In your face was freedom's ringing chimes |
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Looking at your picture, one of a thousand killed that day |
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In a moment I could feel that my heart grew |
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And in all the trials of my life you know |
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I can only hope to be as beautiful as you |
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(Chorus) |
