.[Carlos de C.]
Salieron del gran mogollón
Iluminados por el rock
Huyen del paro y del smog
Corren hacia el gran pabellón
Vuelven a ser las horas de Atila y Satán
Que se reúnen para su rito infernal
Pero un silencio sepulcral
Se cierne sobre la ciudad
Nadie qui.
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