Their ancestors, warriors
Stained with infamy.
Some worship them,
others fear them.
Splendid coloured costumes,
haunt their enemies.
They’re remembered on the battlefield.
Often recalled in history for their vindictive actions.
The king would wear a magnificently coloured headress into battle.
The knights of the eagle,
and of the jaguar.
These warriors are fierce and not to be toyed with.
When they came,
the pale faces.
They searched for gold and treasure alike.
But when Cortes,
layed his eyes upon it.
That wonderous city.
He thought it must be heaven.
called them heathens.
So with their fire sticks,
caped in blood they slaughtered these warriors.
They degraded them with satire.
They will rip out your heart,
and offer it to the gods.
But there was one god.
He was the god of the sun and war.
Huitzilopochtli, the most feared and
adored of the gods.
He would arise at dawn and fight at dusk.
He craved human blood.
And when Cortes dared walk the
hollow streets of that city again, he felt
as if he was being watched by ghosts.