Dom Helder Camara

I wrote a call to subversion
In the margins of my sermon
In a service last Sunday.

Losing faithful to the purging
Losing lives to coercion
This was never God’s way.

Now this Evita, I haven’t seen her
You lied to me Argentina
But I won’t do the same.

I’m underground in my nation
A theology of liberation
Live to pray another day.
                                
Killing time in the Southern Cone!

These are the front lines
The junta high crimes
I’ve a right to speak my mind
But the AAA knows where to draw the line.

A vacant garage turned to torture
I’m disappeared; they earn a fortune
Selling children of the dead.

It’s high time I introduce ya
Nuestra fea guerra sucia
Unrecorded until yet.

So tell the story for tomorrow
I’m Dom Helder Camara
I’m the future of the past.

Por ahora, Por mañana
I’m Dom Helder Camara
And I won’t be the last.

El curo del Cono Sur!

On the front lines
The junta high crimes
I’ve a right to speak my mind
And you can kill me but you’ll never keep me in line.