Testo September 1973

A generation died
When the shots began
And the planes moved in
We chose the tyrant’s side
It’s always been the plan
Kill the people’s man

Misery’s our currency We buy and sell so gracefully
The open veins and how they bleed
In September 1973

The city’s burning, and it’s us who lit the fire
It would be his last goodbye
Just one last broadcast so the struggle stays alive
It would be his last goodbye

An innocence had died
As the palace burned
Make the peasants learn
Like a fragile kite
People disappeared
Drifting into fear
Hope was bleeding in the streets
As soldiers killed so willingly
They planted seeds of tragedy
In September 1973

The city’s burning, and it’s us who lit the fire
It would be his last goodbye
Just one last broadcast so the struggle stays alive
It would be his last goodbye

The streets are quickly growing calm
Like dying winds before the storm
The worst is clearly yet to come
I dare to say that this means war
And things will not be like before
What the hell do we stand for?

The city’s burning, and it’s us who lit the fire
It would be his last goodbye
Just one last broadcast so the struggle stays alive
It would be his last goodbye