We came by the rising of the river
on a river with no name
in the summer monsoon rain
to wash away Luisa's bones
from the ghost that guards her grave.

She lays by the ride of fire and emeralds
in a house with cast iron gates,
and underneath red candles wait
for her killers [bad word] home and
for her to find revenge today.

 [bad word] far and wide
on these hills 
they have mind.
Copper, steel, iron ore.
Fifty years maybe more.
Searching in the light,
One half century of wives,
You can see on the horizon
She is soon going home.
You take the road
I'll take the river
You bring the fire
I'll bring the jewels
And in the evening underneath the roaring sky
We will meet and wait and pray for the monsoon
And we will wait to the rising of the river
When the summer monsoon rain [bad word] to wash the old rings
Past the beach into the ocean
For to carry us away
Setting free Luisa's bones from
The ghost that guards her grave.