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Please don't tell me I can't make it It aint gonna do me any good And please don't offer me your modern method By fixing the carpets out of wood From long alleys to Magdalena There are 60 miles of sacred road And the promise is made to those who venture San Francisco lift your load In the land of old Sonora A shallow river valley cries The summer left her without forgiveness It's mirrored in her children's eyes (...) sons and wayward daughters Carry mandalas that they made He delivered from the debts of darkness And born again by candlelight And born again my candlelight Blisters on my feet Wooden rosary A (...) in my pocket as I ran From Letras Mania