this means war
adelitas way
seems unnecessary to dream
if everything's predestiny
for our crimes of blasphemy
and the price has been marked on our skin
riding pale horses against the wind
and our clothes are stained with red
the people are counting their dead
they keep speaking with swords in their mouths
sounds of waves crashing's all that comes out
what's there left to defend?
and our clothes are stained with red
the people are counting their dead
if we can try to make it through the storm
although there's not a reason anymore
and our clothes are stained in red
the people are counting their dead
and our clothes are stained with red
the people are counting their dead