Broken Spears lie in the roads We have torn our hair in grief The houses are roofless now And the walls are red with blood Worrms swarm in the streets And the halls are splattered with gore The water runs red as if it were dead, When we drink it tastes of brine You. Choke. On the dust. We have pounded our hands in despair Against the adobe walls For our inheritance is lost, our city is dead The shields of our warriors could not save it