LEARN LYRICS

Hanging from the sky
By twelve cypresses
Twelve apostles in green
Keep watch twelve months
At the crumbling wall
that marks its boundary
They've taken away some stones from it
to build the little chapel
My cemetery has a mass grave
where we Cuban heroes are
On Sundays the Blacks don't let us sleep
because they feel like singing Misa Luba
And we dead have a great time here
Among flowers of many colors
And on Fridays and so on
If in the grave there isn't a plan
we get dressed and go out
to take a stroll
without going past the gate, that's right
that we dead have to stay here
And heaven, as for me
can wait
This cemetery
isn't just any old thing
since the headstones in the back
are of pink marble
And although there are good graves
the niches are better
because they are cheaper
and there are hardly any bugs
Then, in lordly style
the family mausoleum
of the Dukes Medina y Luengo
that even though the final judgment
treats us the same
here there are people of ancient lineage
And we dead have a great time here
Among flowers of many colors
And on Fridays and so on
If in the grave there isn't a plan
we get dressed and go out
to take a stroll
without going past the gate, that's right
that we dead have to stay here
And heaven, as for me
can wait
And we dead have a great time here
Among flowers of many colors
And on Fridays and so on
If in the grave there isn't a plan
we get dressed and go out
to take a stroll
without going past the gate, that's right
that we dead have to stay here
And heaven, as for me
can wait
This cemetery isn't serious
This cemetery isn't serious
This cemetery isn't serious
This cemetery isn't serious
This cemetery isn't serious
This cemetery isn't serious
This cemetery isn't serious