Through the eyes of heathens
Dancing altars made of poppies and ash
Coat jaded tongues in bittersweet memory
We are eternal yet our spark is on the verge of annihilation
Government needs a turnicate
Big heads bloated, filled with ego
Defiled our homeland
Seemingly snuffing forever the bright flame of freedom
A sea of distraught bodies marching onward into the night
Their chants of "HELL NO TO GMO" crescendoing as it passes by into the packed square
Those in power so easily comforted by their AKs and steel walls
Dia de Los Muertos masks hide determination
As the bombs ignite setting fire to the sky
Comprehension of our purpose is realized
We are not here to ask nicely
We will not be obedient to our peers as masters
Behind our smiling sugar skull masks
**We grin as they burn