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For being born

For being born, in this ground.
I made a deal with God
or maybe with the devil, I don't know.
I just remember the order,
of not silencing what was silenced so much.
 
Then, doesn't seem to care.
To who, doesn't seem to feel.
Maybe, because saving the bread.
He thinks, he owns a good living.
 
Poor him.
The right-hand man of the boss.
Whose decrees or shovel hits he orders to boecome law.
To keep safe the loot,
of those who starve the nation.
 
Where I, am dreaming of dying.
Like who is dreaming of growing.
 
Then, doesn't seem to care.
To who, doesn't seem to feel.
Maybe, he prefers to forget,
for the best of his own existance.
 

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Route 76

Route 76 of Buenos Aires
Path that was walked by the natives of Catriel1
Going to the short willow, to visit
Natives rich in windows and Lonkos of Cura Malal
 
For some it's past
For others, it's tradition
I rose a corral of stones
Where I sour my blood
In your muddy margins, route 76.
 
Born in Sierra Chica,
And dies in Lopez Lecube
With direction to the bay
That was white once
There on the sands of Chacicó
Small forts where by decree the gaucho, turned off.
 
Today the face of Roca2
In the bills of one hundred
And your desert footprint
Wakes in me the exiled
Brave men who today
Don't listen, and don't answer
 
Route 76 of Buenos Aires
I'm singing you
And you're waiting for me
Because I must circulate in you to reach
To the rustic corner of the national pride
 

• 1. A dinasy of chiefs of a native population in La Pampa
• 2. Julio Argentino Roca, president of Argentina

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Native feeling

Native feeling in my heart,
gave birth to the song.
For who feels or wants to feel
native pride.
 
It's the curse of Malinche,
the spell of the huinca.
The terrorism of the white god,
Satan and Christ.
 
Mother earth, father sun.
No devil, no sir.
It seems mor coherent
to adore them again.
 
Over the sanctimonius swindle
of the living dead.
Over this destructive path,
or the fear of punishment.
 
Native feeling, native pride.
Gave birth to this song in my heart.
That tries to praise your aboriginal origin.
New blood of the race
that still dreams of being free.
 
Mother earth, father sun.
Living gods, by now.
Great silent witnesses,
of the unaware mankind
and its devouring zeal of hell and torture.
Of the blessed progress,
by brought gods.
 

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Be yourself

Come on, why letting,
your dreams go to waste.
If you're not yourself, it will be sad.
If you're not yourself, it will be very sad.
 
Why to fake... if being oneself is winning,
why fool and lie to yourself.
Be yourself, nothing more, and you'll save the world,
even if many make it hard.
 
Let's keep going like we did until here,
promising me that you understood it.
If something goes wrong... let's say it's done!
Who resists make his dreams come true.
 
I know. You'll say...it's hard to hold on.
But who holds on, is who exists.
If that one leaves... Don't cry, don't look behind.
Even if many make it sad.
 
Be yourself, nothing more, and you'll save the world,
why fool and lie to yourself.
I know. You'll say...it's hard to hold on.
But who holds on, is who exists.
 
Why to fake... if being oneself is winning,
even if many make it hard.
If that one leaves... Don't cry, don't look behind.
Life wants to teach you.
 

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Being human with my people

Without being a Jehovah Witness,
God manifests himself in my voice.
I'm not evangelist, adventist nor mormon.
Neither a sanctimonius priest.
I'm not a doctor in laws.
I'm not a thief, nor a whitleblower nor a cop.
Know it!!
 
I am who I am, nothing more,
I'm not more or less than anybody.
My dad is a worker.
And my mom a great woman.
Woman Eva Duarte. Man Juan Peron.
Warrior Argentinian duo.
 
Today it's the opposite, it's all going backwards.
That's why the sad heavy metal singing
insists. Let me go.
 
The century is dying, while foolishness
seems to be a strong coin.
Maybe because idiots feed the evilness
that takes over the good.
Children born of who sang yesterday.
Are the remake of scapism.
 
If you don't have enough to pay a lawyer.
You'll end behind the bars of a cell.
And go fuck yourself.
 
Let me go, let me be human.
With the men of Santa Fe, Mendoza, Tucuman,
Corrientes or of Cordoba.
 

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Thinking of coming

The car's gearbox is broken
fourth and fifth speed are dead
I'm going on third speed to death
to fulfil with Almafuerte.
 
The thing always
gets hard
sometimes is mud
and sometimes is a rock.
 
If it doesn't freeze a lot
the clouds are down
problematic accident
if dying isn't present.
 
The thing always
gets hard
sometimes is mud
and sometimes is a rock!
 
I'm only thinking of coming
my friends are waiting there yeah!
I must not delay
I must fulfil
my destiny and I will!
 

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For being myself

Of avoiding loneliness so much
there's nothing that scares me anymore.
Everything I had once,
Today is yesterday. Today is distant.
It's worthless to remember what could happen one day.
It's worthless to cry for the lost time.
Because death is there, waiting.
 
I am who sang yesterday 'Se Vos'1
Today for being myself I move roaming.
The road of the heart,
that is still beating in my chest.
I dream that you'll understand, which was my move.
When the load of time adds to your lives.
If my luck wants it so. It will be true.
 
Is for missing so much that my wound won't close.
I don't know why love hurts me.
It's worthless to remember what could happen one day.
My truth, my reason, with the cedar and the bronze.
Will be kept by the soil. Again.
 

• 1.

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Motherland on the shoulder

Life is passing and time will run out
It's a thorn I want to take off.
And so my closed wound maybe
Gives me the grace of a thousand freedoms.
Since early started to bark
My inner dog that can't bite.
Maybe because of that I can't appease
The great say-so that invades me daily
That is invading me daily
 
I look for a satanza full of truth
That screams to the world that all is in vain
But I couldn't find it yet
And the nonsense motivates me to the fraud
While I crawl in search of love
With the passion of avoiding the loneliness,
The big whore keeps strolling,
Feeding the delinquential chaos
 
I join the hope of a new dawn
I load the motherland on the shoulder too
And making mine the children of the others
My creole feeling won't go to waste
In the immensity
Won't go to waste
In the immensity
 

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My credo

We came from the past, guitar and voice,
always dreaming of the best song.
I'm stuck-up, they will broadcast,
AM radios of the central city.
 
I believed I could be able, I believed in truth
I believed firmly that they weren't going to fail me.
What people believs, I believed it too,
I believed in everything to believe.
 
I believed in love, I believed in friendship,
I believed that the strength wouldn't miss for me.
Of all I believed, I believed I knew
that everything is to believe or not to believe.
 
I believed that they would bring back what they borrowed me,
believing in her, believing in him
I'm believing in the living God,
that your children are like mine.
Or not? For god sake.
 
I believed that I could sing folk too, a very national look.
In the evening of my days, I stole Discepolin with nothing more.
I believed in so many things, oh, deary me,
goddammit, I was such an idiot.
 

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Hard hand

With a decoration of a good trap
I leave in your hands three spades
for you to have it.
 
May the guy knows he's playing the ruffian
I'm the owner of the hard hand.
 
Gods of the abyss
will keep my score.
 
For oneself, or for that one.
Like you and us three.
Who travelling in the sound,
we dreamed yesterday and we keep it today.
 

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Die monster, die

In the early morning it appeared lurking,
a neighbour warned me about its prescence.
Showing itself, sick of evasion,
silent and filled with scapism.
 
I found the scare, that was given birth!
God keep me safe from that coming to me, yeah!
 
Profoundly shaken the civilians demanded me
to take charge of that unprecedent monster,
I rose it up in my car and put it out of the region
handing it over to God I left him saying:
 
Don't return scare, don't return, no
Don't return scare, die monster, die!
 
Back to the fields, after completing my mission
the neighbours smiled at me, thankfully.
For being Holy Saturday this was remembered
as the day of the scare in the place where I live.
 
Die monster, die!
Die monster, die!
Die monster, die!
 

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Morning star

For wanting to see you, morning star.
I stumbled and fell coming back of wandering.
The twentieth century passes and the central city ties me
with its hand of ethereal concrete, to the vice of getting up early.
I raised my eyes to the sky, when I was crossing the plaza.
Wanting to see you star, but I couldn't see anything.
 
Nothing but miserable concrete lofts.
Behind the downed foliage of some dried trees.
That vision distracted me, and I stepped on dog poop
I screamed la conchasumadre, and the police car stopped.
Oh, oh my luck, what a bad luck.
For wanting to see you, morning star.
 
Accused by the cop who saw me watching the sky
and screaming conchasumadre at the Morning star.
Under suspicion of addicted, to the city drugs.
I was added to the register og urban ilegality
Oh, oh my luck, what a bad luck.
For wanting to see you, morning star.
 
Morning star, I dreamed with your light in my imprisionment.
It bather my flesh, and my flesh bathed with my shadow the floor
Of the plains away from the great piling.
Where I was leaving my song all alone to the open sky.
My awakening was so sad, like my bad luck
Wanting to see you star, but I couldn't see anything.
 
Nothing but miserable concrete lofts.
Behind the downed foliage of some dried trees.
In the city that opresses me, to the vice of getting up early.
Where nobody warns, but many silence,
Ignoring you. Morning star.
Ignoring you. Morning star.
 

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In this journey

Of the worst I went through
I made song, because I sing what I feel
Violently to the other side, my love was gone
Without a goodbye, without a see you later
 
I wasn't there to help it, maybe
The unavoidable doesn't answer to the vade retro.
People use to be wrong here.
And people see truth in the non truth.
 
A big reason helps me in this journey.
Two flowers of your love. Reason, cause and effect.
The gossiping witch and the unfaithful friendship
Don't take care your flowers. Because I care of them well.
 
The first one is debating
And the small cocoon is opening to the broad sky.
And I won't deny, I achieved a new love.
Because I still in live remembering the best of you.
 
Love is the responsable
The only guide of the imperfect spirit
Love is the responsable, I think
Is the truth, the sense, the our father.
 

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The jumble of a great dream

Without a reason, my great dream became a jumble.
I cried so much for it, for unexpected.
If there was a reason, they didn't told me,
the ones who yesterday shared so much with me.
They premeditated to put me away and by knowing it, I went aside.
 
I sing my reason for who hears it to keep it.
Because here I go again, anew like before.
Many friends grieved by knowing,
that my dream was leaving behind.
While was laughing the dealer reporter,
who always discredits what the creole feels.
Rumoring, dishonoring.
 
Without stopping to remember the yesterday.
What could be, and what couldn't be.
I keep trying with the heavy metal
to reach to who feels it,
sending my truths to the front.
 

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Going to the Abra

A thousand and one times I heard this song
Looking in vain for the words
That was hiding before the heartbeat
The central sun of the galaxy
 
From the south the wind, to the south the rivers
From the south my flesh and my nature
Of christian poor dog,
And of poet without inspiration
 
Far from the great city,
That saw me blooming
From those who dream of me defeated
Far from the nasal roar
That powers the chaos
And the reasonless unconsciousness
 
Going to the Abra, at the sunset
Of this fucking hard life
And I'm waiting under three peaks
That you make up your mind once and for all
 
To go far from the city,
From those who dream of yo defeated too
Far from the nasal roar
That powers the chaos
And the reasonless unconsciousness
 

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Go Bonavena

Me and my pairs are here
to give what we got to give
for feeling madness and passion
they see us dressed in black.
 
I'm a metalhead by own choice
don't piss me off officer
gulping down I'm celebrating
the best of national heavy.
 
Let's go boys once again
let's sing, so they hear
the guys in suits who sell forgiveness
the tropicals and the cyberstones
and that lady of the TV... uuuh!
 
I'm a metalhead by own choice
don't piss me off officer
gulping down I'm celebrating
the best of national heavy.
 
Let's go boys once again
let's sing, so they hear
the guys in suits who sell forgiveness
the tropicals and the cyberstones.
 
Go Bonavena.
Go Bonavena.
 
Let's go boys once again
let's sing, so they hear
the guys in suits who sell forgiveness
the tropicals and the cyberstones.
and the junkies of revolution.
 
Go Bonavena.
Go Bonavena.
 

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1999

False faith, false forgiveness of the sins.
Gods who, were sold and bought.
By fools who forgot that hell is today.
And that the hidden reason is reencarnation.
 
By the TV. Selfish faggot males.
Show it was, lying love like smiles.
The worst is to be carried along by the shit that,
the old bastards keep preaching.
 
It's not for reason of strength
but for strength of reason.
That their time has come.
 
Without persecuting myself, I rule over my opinion,
And may who stands it blows up
or who's not with me, bear it.
 

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