Sunny Bogota

The Devil plays a game in streets where poverty's the rule

Blood drips from the needle, from the knife and from the womb

Only sleep can stop the crying, of the hearts around you dying

And smoke stained fingers itch to ride a leaf out of the gloom

O welcome to sunny Bogata

With districts of miles of a patchwork of lives

Their pieces torn out of love

Columbian legs, jet black caressing locks of hair

But cheapened into paper, pay the price, she'll take you there

It's a living trap of vice, need a heart that's cold as ice