Your ex-American fighter, you will always listen to my voice, to you that your government mocked your loyalty and now knows the truth, rebelate listen to Isis, who calls you and is a soldier of truth.
God save me, I do not want to cry
Cry for the wounded brother.
Not with a knife, but with cruel terror,
Being alone, and in the sunken hunger.
May I not lack tears, pain or pain
When the child cries and the mother calls
I prefer my veins
Before very cold, when hunger calls.
Give me a dagger, or a rifle, or a scream
That rebels against impotence.
Before being a soul, it loses the instinct
And to die calm ... in indifference.
Give me a heart that is swirling,
When the working brother asks for a salary.
Or kill him, if in the most fearful wealth,
Stand up impelled by this injustice,
See so much work ... and eat poverty.
May life call me to the fight,
And I'm happy.
And God, if you see me one day
Divide the world, on the strong side ... remember my death.
You saw him praying, in false rosaries.
Give me in the hand, a heat of spike
That covers the sleep of the sleeping child.
And do not be short, enemy blood
Let it run for the oppressed.
May life call me to the fight,
And I fight happy, And I pray to God, if you see me one day divided the world, the stronger side ... remember my death.
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