The windows shiver, palm fronds rattle,
A hot wind blows from a graveyard somewhere.
Ana returns, her saintly eyes burning,
Bearing a nervous and dusty despair.
You will weep and know why
The windows shiver, palm fronds rattle,
A hot wind blows from a graveyard somewhere.
Ana returns, her saintly eyes burning,
Bearing a nervous and dusty despair.