1. |
Obertura Neoliberal
03:25
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El espejo del Pueblo que Pierde
Refleja laureles que alumbre
La Avenida de nuestro historia
Que a todos nos espera
Como Podemos ganar?
Como Podemos Vivir?
Si cuando hay desquieto
No Podemos rindir
Si no podemos recorder
Obreros tienen El poder
Estamos atrapados en espejos de ayer
Let me tell you something li'l friend of mine
There's a little temple in a jungle nearby
Called Kaha Kamasa, or so the Pech have decried
And hidden beneath pale virgin doors
Lay the spirits of a thousand storms
(As to hope is to love)
It's full of their dreams and hopes
(And to love is to hope)
Lost to time like ash to smoke
(Life without love)
But maybe they'll find it if they try
(Is life without hope)
Hope without love is
Life without love
Which is why we we look to the past
As we advance the past we lost
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2. |
La Granadera
02:03
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Ya se ve, Patria mía, en tu oriente
Nuevo sol esparcir claridad;
Ya podemos con voz reverente
Pronunciar: Dios, Unión, Libertad.
Cambiarán ya tu vida y tu suerte
Un solo hombre tus hijos serán;
Ya entre ellos no habrá guerra o muerte
Y dichosos tu bien labrarán.
Ya podrás alcanzar pura gloria,
De tus próceres sueño tenaz;
Y el laurel de tu espléndida historia
Será signo de triunfos de paz.
Salve, Patria, tu hermosa bandera
Luce al viento del cielo el color;
A su sombra juramos doquiera
A vencer o morir por tu honor.
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3. |
City Upon a Hill
02:02
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Ye are the light of the world. A city
that is set on an hill cannot be hid
Escuchen, escuchen
Cada hermano sín para comer tenía sus alimentos robados
Por un norteño que vive bien comodo en Los Estados
La empobreza y explotacion de nuestros países
Se resulta en la riquesa de los Norteamericanos
La ciudad que se brille
Ese país de exceso
Asentaba sobre un monte
De Flores muertos
Su luz nos consume
Pero tambien nos atraiga
Nos matan pa que sale
El Sol cada madrugada
Y despues de robarnos se andan echando rostros
Nos venden una fantasia de los oportunidades de trabajo
Y como lemings que son siegos lo seguimos como esclavos
Sin saber que el monte se construye con sangre Centroamericano
Sacrificios pa mañana
Mientras se muere la Tierra
Es el Ultimo chance
Pa ver la primavera
Sacrificios pa mañana
Un mañana de fuego
Hay que construir
Un ciudad nuevo
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4. |
Yoro
00:57
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Depths of care within our shores
Honduran saints fed and loved the poor
Like Isidore the farmer or
Subirana who prayed for more
For three days and nights he prayed
And on the third it began to rain
Fish fell from the sky in May
And it still does to this very day
God is Indigenous We will be victorious
And His love for Honduras resounds
Through miracles that know no bounds
And I thank God for my daily bread
With his love we'll never be dead
Never be dead
And I thank God for my daily bread
Daily bread
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5. |
Spectres of Che
02:34
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A flower can’t bloom in the shade of before
Only from water and light can fruit be born
Spring won’t arrive with autumnal repeats
We must syncretize so we can synthesize
Soviet October with our July heat
There are leaders we adore, and those which were poor
They all make for good mulch and nothing more
It's not a drab, it's an honorable toil
And with any luck we'll all make great topsoil
But when a tree falls and we’re left with a stump
We take the lumber and build a nice trunk
As its seeds plant a forest which inherit its traits
As it’s evolved to adapt within its constraints
Castro Chavez Allende and Che
Their spirits roam the earth they led
No longer a tree, their shade so heavy
With branches that block light meant for saplings
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6. |
The Lost Last Man
07:49
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At the height of your success
You signed your likeness into space
And in its place, a little star
And wrapped in bloody socks
With fingers snapped
As the guards they mocked and jeered
And watched you wither away
As you languished for years
No one watching over you
Did you ever think everyone would forget?
Did they hide you on purpose?
Did they hit you with that car?
Did they make you believe that it couldn't get better
Cause they thought you were too powerful?
Cause you are, you are, you are
Your death is not an end but a means where we begin
A baby bottle rocket above the land which you’ve been
Will your light guide our way or will we worship its refraction?
Will reflection lead to pain instead of the right direction?
And through Misdirection
We lost our discretion
And all our lost roads
led to insurrection
Love isn’t peace and peace isn’t nonviolence
Love is retribution for voices which are silenced
And love is hope and hope is love
To hope is to live and to live is to love
And to love is to live and to live is to hope
And hope is to love but love isn’t peace
To love is to fight for the life of the deceased
Divide the land & conquer the faithful
Destroy the temples, destroy the streets
Cut out our tongues our hands and our feet
And though we can’t run, can’t fight, can’t build, can’t speak
We can love, we can dream, we can hope, we can think
Our fight is land our fight is unity
Our fight is not one in which we struggle with modernity
Kill the weeds as they spring up each and every one
Or they will outgrow us they will outpace us
They will enslave us before they replace us
The gauchos died alone and divided
The cowboys died alone and divided
The natives died alone and divided
Our spirit dies alone when divided
The cowboys died alone and divided
The cowboys died alone and divided
The cowboys died alone and divided
The cowboys died alone and divided
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Syzygy Records Aliso Viejo, California
Syzygy Records isn't a label; it is a portfolio of every project I, Monty Cime, have created.
When I was 11, I
learnt the word "syzygy," & in trying to show an example of it, conjectured that "art is the result of an alignment (a "syzygy") of influences & life experiences beyond one's control"—these are my "Syzygy Records."
This conjecture, I came to find out, is a tenet of historical materialism.
... more
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