So they have found you guilty,
Pinochet’s lover of darkness,
for ending my life tonight.
A football stadium, bodies piled up,
no football today, a perverted game.
Pedro Pablo Barrientos Nunez
how did you learn to terrorize,
to think in ways most men don't think,
to live with walls draped with fingernails?

Now you live in the land of the free,
with 10,000 tortured ghosts,
from El Salvador, Nicaragua, Honduras
and all the rest of the disappeared lands,
that refused to listen to Reagan and Thatcher’s
heritage as patriots.

But we are unafraid to speak up,
or sing out for equality, or write
about the dens of sorrow your kind create.
You took the butchers knife and listened
to the screams, in spite of love in Santiago.
But now the silent dead will have their day,
and tell the world of those 10,000 lost kisses,
as we begin the long march to the sea.