.Un caballo pasó por su cuenca minera, borracha y dinamitera
Tiñendo de marrón la roja sangre, de su puro corazón
Y hoy te dedico este canto, casi entre dolor y llanto, a la gente que cayó.
A mis veinticuatro primaveras, mucho viajé por el mundo
Y si el comparar no es justo.
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