The wind controls the waves in its time
throughout the seasons in recurring rhyme
From time to time, as the elements collide
waves disturb the regular tide
Winds blow, billows flare,
The water trembles with fear.
See if the coast this rage can bear,
And if not, wash the land with tears
The wind of the “80s”, seems peaceful and mild,
the change of weather made it rough and wild.
The cry for independence became a state of mind,
sand in the eyes made us willfully blind
The wind of the old days, brought a new strife,
between mortality and eternal life.
The source of this battle hung on a cross
And gave his life for all of us