Luyện nghe bài hát Memory of The Dead

Wealthy
With the cold hands of

Executive
Determined to
1 million women, children, and men

Died, drowning in the of battle.
Mothers, naked
Infants thier necks
frantically
Tripping over the of their sons
gnashing
Swinging
blood and mud, and screaming:
Land, and liberty!
erased.
Buried and
Along with the of the dead
with the ejido.
With the stroke of a pen
And with the ghost of nixon present in their
smiled.
And the omnipitence
Of the market
The profits of
Extending the scurge of and pizarro
The to buy things you can never afford
The freedom for indians to buy corn that once overgrown in their backyards
The freedom to die of curable
The to watch their children's stomachs swell and burst
The freedom to and die
Without
Or
But ramona, with of obsidian
Peering through her blood and drenched mask
Darding,
direction with the swiftness of a bird
Through the shanty's of the
With every coyote, insect, every phylum of life
her, propelling her forward.
The leaves and branches of the
for miles, clearing her path
The voices and screams of the dead beneathe her
Echo in the chasm of her soul
Hurling her, toward the
History surging her veins
through her fingers
Hurling her, the city
She her trigger
And the words of magome fulfil her
And with shot she fires, she affirms her movement

Enough! enough!
No!
I will see my own flow
Before you take my land...or my