Yo, light the copal, string the pelto, picado, guitars, grime, maracas, slap drums, like a hard kick, go.
Grandpa Ramon on the mic, he spits like era's rhyme, skeleton grin, neon bruise, we steal a laugh from time.
Skulls with paint, simple, suko crown the street, sugar skulls, wink, calaveritas, crunch repeat.
A friend is glow, photos, tequila, old combs, abuela hums a bolero, but now she rocks the toms.
She stirs a moan like thunder, trumpet blast, no mask, remembers work, remembers love, tells tales in half a gasp.
Her pelt picado flutters like flags of memory, we laugh with ghosts, we roast the dark, we honor what will be.
Raise a candle, feel the pulse, copal smoke writes our names in pulse.
From the kitchen to the grave, we fuse, tonight the living got nothing to lose.
Calaveras, chaos streets, ignite the beat, dance with nuestros muertos, punk in heartbeat.
Laugh the fear away, clap, stomp, repeat, day of the dead, fiesta in the street.
Calaveras, chaos streets, ignite the beat, dance with nuestros muertos, punk in heartbeat.
Laugh the fear away, clap, stomp, repeat, day of the dead, fiesta in the street.
Grandpa romance, spit rhymes about la guerra, now he's on mic.
Punchlines about reich and stamps, conga line of the night.
He cracks wiles about lost teeth, about the radio war.
Now he raps with a maraca, break, break through the door.
Little kids in calacas, pogo like tiny sons.
Brass stabs, distorted chords, a riot of sugar tongues.
Abuela's mole hits like a trumpet blast, warm and bright.
She folds our grief in tortillas, serves memory by night.
Candles flick, names aloud, we raise a toast, we laugh out loud.
Old wounds dress in papel, we choose to dance with what we cannot lose.
Calaveras, chaos streets, ignite the beat, dance with nuestros muertos, punk in heartbeat.
Laugh the fear away, clap, stomp, repeat, day of the dead, fiesta in the street.
Calaveras, chaos streets, ignite the beat, dance with nuestros muertos, punk in heartbeat.
Laugh the fear away, clap, stomp, repeat, day of the dead, fiesta in the street.
Quien vive, viva, quien canta, viva, quien recuerda, viva los que fueron, viva.
Fast talk, tongue twist, double time with snare clicks.
Spit tiny jokes about the cemetery's gimmicks.
Hey, Graham's where's your dentures? He answers with a grin.
Climate's fine in the afterlife, cheaper beer, less sin.
Maracas roll like hi-hats, brass like a siren's laugh.
We roast the dark with satire, hug the past on all we had.
Calaveras, chaos streets, ignite the beat, dance with nuestros muertos, punk in heartbeat.
Laugh the fear away, clap, stomp, repeat, day of the dead, fiesta in the street.
Calaveras, chaos streets, ignite the beat, dance with nuestros muertos, punk in heartbeat.
Laugh the fear away, clap, stomp, repeat, day of the dead, fiesta in the street.
So light the coal, we'll pin the photo, sing a joke to the sky.
Tonight we punk the sorrow, teach the night to cry.
We live loud for the lost, mi familia, mi crew.
El dia de los muertos, we laugh, remember, renew.
