I can hear your spirit calling my name
The clay of my land invoking my name
My body is broken and my soul is gone

My principe Azteca resurrect from the dead
Heal my wounds to fight again
I only have my arrow and my bow
And like a hunter I will rescue my soul

Mi principe Azteca white men have come from a foreign land
They murdered our sisters and sons –believing we have no souls

They took our land
They took our gold
They took our freedom
Destroyed our souls in the altar of our gods

My principe Azteca kiss me with your lips of immortality
And with my bow and arrow i will aim straight to their hearts
becuase oh God they deserve to die

My principe Azteca sacrifice my heart
But please don’t let them suffer anymore
Let me rescue their souls.

Here I am, back on the ground and beaten down. Filled wit love but wear the mask of a clown.. I'll tell you honestly, I was at the top I flew among kings and for a moment I had thought. These angel's with wings, who's soft lips did comfort lonely soul.. Why would it stop?.. Now to go on, supposed to find our roads, to search for my own "beautiful life", a brand new rose? "This clown, this joker, this suffering artist", call me what you will, but kindly I leave with a parting gift- This is not a shout for "help!", I'm not trying to connect, jus that I am like all of you, another clown in respects. It is easy to stumble, it is easy to fall, but we are here for each other, Heart, Mind, Body, Soul and All..