Háblame Del Sur

I could tell you a million stories about my people,
that would show we are not different,
I could but first you have to want to hear them,
with an open heart or they will just be words.

Black, white, yellow
brown and red
for the skin any is good,
all except purple,
except purple.

Talk to me about the south,
about its moon.
Talk to me about April,
about its flowers.
Talk to me about healing kisses,
and give me beer and snails.
Talk to me about the south,
about its people.
Talk to me about dewy nights,
talk to me because I always listen
as long as a snake doesn't speak.

Don't you realize you come across as primitive,
that your speech today no longer makes sense,
that the differences you still see between us,
are hallucinations in the desert of your hatred.

Black, white, yellow
brown and red
for the skin any is good,
all except purple,
except purple.

Talk to me about the south,
about its moon.
Talk to me about April,
about its flowers.
Talk to me about healing kisses,
and give me beer and snails.
Talk to me about the south,
about its people.
Talk to me about dewy nights,
talk to me because I always listen
as long as a snake doesn't speak.