Song of Santa Muerte
The future doesnt exist for me.
The past is nothing but a wishing well.
It now is my path to roam and wander
For I have no more stories to tell
I see it in the lattices
All criss-crossing my palm,
Their raised skin hedges
Now have a weird sort of charm
Dìa de Muertos is music to my ears...
Dìa de Muertos is my day of farewell.
Until then smile beside me and laugh alongside me;
I already promised my Daemons a Hell