This is what parties are made of the sky is dark,
and no one knows how much we spark.
The tradition never dies no matter how long ago we part.
The music rhymes and to all it wants to take us on its arc.
The light from their souls is here to live, and leave their mark.
Remember when we were over there and we used to smoke lark?
No you don't? I can't believe you forgot our roots when you are so smart.
You were practising running for the school tournaments on the park.
You should put all your memories in a shelf inside a golden mark.
You should yell it out your Ecuatorian, know your bark.
Your not s superhero nor invincible like Clark
But because of the flag on you shoulders from the sea you're a shark.
Rhythms that call for minuscule movement, which fill the brain
with knowledge of our elder Gods' dances under the rain.
We are here now celebrating one more time our success our gain.
Time passes and we still have a long road to walk and much to gain.
We represent the small country of South America under the Andes chain.
The only one who created dollars from the mines of Zamora-Chinchipe.
The one who has embed in their people pride by freeing it from Spain.
Some of us are crazy some are knowledgeable and sane.
We are not from Europe, we are not from France, we are not Dane.
We have changed the pass and will change the future with out a strain.
Our blood is fill with courage and native folklore is dip inside our veins.
That why when you hear a guitar and a flute your hear thinks of grain.
