Batallas
Es la tinta roja
Brota de su pluma
Drena el grito de los presos
Están gritando "¡ten piedad!"
Sin tregua ni fé
La razón se desvanece
Inconsciencia, sufrimiento
Las balas matan la inocencia
(Tararararararara
Tara rara
Tararara tararara
Tara rara...)
Que las palabras sean
Como suave brisa en piel
Acariciando, cicatrizando
Heridas con poder
Prófugos invictos
La mancha no se borra
No hay batallas terminadas
Miles de calles inundadas
(Tararararararara
Tara rara
Tararara tararara
Tara rara...)
Brota de su pluma
Drena el grito de los presos
Están gritando "¡ten piedad!"
Sin tregua ni fé
La razón se desvanece
Inconsciencia, sufrimiento
Las balas matan la inocencia
(Tararararararara
Tara rara
Tararara tararara
Tara rara...)
Que las palabras sean
Como suave brisa en piel
Acariciando, cicatrizando
Heridas con poder
Prófugos invictos
La mancha no se borra
No hay batallas terminadas
Miles de calles inundadas
(Tararararararara
Tara rara
Tararara tararara
Tara rara...)
Credits
Writer(s): Valentina Pineda
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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