Cruz de Marihuana

When I die, raise
A marijuana cross
With ten bottles of wine
And a hundred nailed decks
In the end, what was my destiny?
To walk on the wrong paths

In my fine box
My treasure trove of bullets
I enjoyed everything in life
Jewels, women, and gold
I am a drug trafficker
I risk it all for the powder

Upon my tomb, raise
A marijuana cross
I don't want tears or prayers
Nor sacred ground
Bury me in the mountains
With the lions of my pack

Let that marijuana cross
Be watered with fine liquors
Seven days a week
And play my tunes
With northern music
There, sing my songs

Let my memory be written
With poppy tears
And let it be said with bullets
The fame of my gun
For roosters in my land
The land was our glory

Upon my tomb, raise
A marijuana cross
I don't want tears or prayers
Nor sacred ground
Bury me in the mountains
With the lions of my pack