The cigarette without a tie Let's smoke at dawn. And the remorse of the cowards With the fear that reaches out its paw The ministry of this priest And pity at the window And the client who may not have Neither God Nor Master The pale burden that we pack Like a bundle to the stars That fall cold on the slab And this rose without petals That avocado in the towel This dawn that sets sail For tears that may not have Neither God Nor Master These woods that we say of justice And that grow in torment And to furnish the sacrifice With the service tree This procedure that lies in wait Those that society rejects On the pretext that they may not have Neither God Nor Master This gospel word Who makes fools bend And who puts in the civil horror Nobility and then style This cry that does not have the rosette This word of a prophet I claim it and wish you Neither God Nor Master Neither God Nor Master There's no point in repeating what I'm saying because You know, they all have gods, by you, because you are smart You don't have an art like me They all have gods and masters, they only ask for that So, shit It's true, it's disgusting huh
