Muerte Tirana
Carlos y José
Tyrant Death
Here I will be
At the foot of this tree
That has not wanted to give
A flower
That pleases me
The first flower it gave
That was my mother's
And since then
That tree dried up
My mother died
I ran out of treasure
My father died
I ran out of pride
Tyrant death
You took what was yours
And left me
In the world to suffer
My mother died
