A flood (Quelea, quelea) of blood to the heart (Quelea, quelea) A flood of blood to the heart Heat shimmer Open smother Ooh, dead in the middle of the C-O-double-M-O-N Little did I know then that the Mandela Boys Soon become Mandela Men Hips quiver

I'm the son of all I've done Impostor, been fostered I will tell you what I can But your mind will take a stand I sing of a greater love Let me know when you've had enough Then my new father drained my dirty blood Then my new father drained my dirty

Get high, hit the floor before you go. Matador, estocada, you’re my blood sport. Forty-eight thousand seats bleats and roars for my memories of you, Something good, oh something good tonight will make me forget about you for now. But something good

Uhh, trauma I was on the corner with the reefa And they got us warring for our freedom See my brother blood on the pavement How you wake up in the mornin' feelin' evil? When them drugs got a hold of your mama And the judge got a hold on your father Go to

Sunday, bloody Sunday (Sunday, bloody Sunday) How long must we sing this song? How long? How long 'cause tonight we can be as one (Yeah, let's go) Sunday, bloody Sunday (Sunday, bloody Sunday)

Take me to your river I wanna know Oh, I wanna come near and give ya Every part of me But there's blood on my hands And my lips aren’t clean Wanna go, wanna go, wanna go Wanna know, wanna know, wanna know

Cobras Fumantes, eterna é sua vitória Rise from the blood of your heroes You, were the ones who refused to surrender The three rather died than to flee Know that your memory Will be sung for a century We remember, no surrender Heroes of our century Far,

Conceived was I From Chaos and hate Of malice, deceit and blood And how would they know My fate is to rise Against the Asagods My being is full, full of a rage An evil that can't be tamed It darkens my soul

And the choirs kept singing of freedom Come round by my side and I'll sing you a song I'll sing it so softly, it'll do no one wrong On Birmingham Sunday the blood ran like wine That cold autumn morning no eyes saw the sun And Addie Mae Collins, her

And I know what's on your mind God knows I put it there But if I took it back Well you'd be nowhere You'd be nowhere again In my cold arms Weekend wreckers take the streets With abandon in their eyes But in our bedroom we're bloodshot and beat