Now that the city is dreaming, viva the pale moonlight
Take to your bibles, take to your beds, now that nothing seems right
National Guards who they pay by the week are gonna clash in the curfew tonight
With Los companeros born in the war, from Warsaw to San Salvador
A voice from the past comes a callin', saying hold every strong heart dear
These are the days when it seems like there's nothing but newspapers, order, fear
Praise to the ones who are burried gone, and to the brave hearts who just disappeared
Los companeros, born in the war, from...
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