There\'s no glory in dying .
You just have to do your duty
and what is right for the soul .
Then you\'ll find rest under the big trees.
To fulfill one\'s life is to know how to leave .
Deguello is the dagger\'s sharp song
The melody of the muezzin on the Cordoba remparts ,
the ruddy spring quenching the thirst of the gods .
Men who despise rats and crows kill without hatred .
Those about to fall ,look each other in the eye
with the calm of acceptance .
After the deguello call none will survive
in the ruins of the monastery .
Fate of the sacrificed lovers of life
who will perish ...
Women who will give birth to generations
don\'t hear the trumpet of deguello .
It\'s a piece played for silent guys .
\'\' Son ,a mexican bayonet will pierce my heart
in this place dedicated to the lord ,whose name is Alamo ,
my spirit now at peace with the message of deguello ,
I\'m going to join the green leaves of summer ! \'\'
o