As I walk through the streets of Boyle heights
Amaterasu, the sun goddess wetting my back
Passing nopales, raspados and guayava trees
Following the paths set before me by the vatos locos of yesteryear
Their furniture still out on the street corner
I can feel the tread on my huaraches starting to give out, along with my faith in the people of the sun
I am the samurai that smells of chorizo
I have lived a 1,000 lives and fought a 1,000 duels
The flash of the blades determining my death style
There’s no turning back from meifumado
The path of the demon seeking vengeance
26 winters old, living in the shadows of tress
Adapting to the changing lands and it’s dictators
Staring at a colorless sky
I never did learn karate but I do know madrazos
My sword
Always at my side
I use it to flip my tortillas when the comal gets too hot
The winds of destiny howling from the bowls of hell
Our blue moon is coming to an end
The choice between dying on your feet or living on your knees no longer yours
You can still hear the sounds of battle cry
Because in Boyle Heights
Some live and some die
For that is the way of the Xikano Samurai
