My father threw himself under my train last night

I was travelling to Babylon

He had called himself a lump

Unemployed and useless

A spent force
Injured and dying
Like a silent horse

He shared the streets with them

He shared the city air

But they ignored him

My mighty warrior

 

I am preparing the incendiaries

I am preparing the bombs

 

The revolution is yet to start

But it is nearing its climax

 

My finger is on the trigger

The people are on the streets

 

I am looking into my mirror

But cannot find the reflection

That I used to know

 

Translated from the Spanish