December 5, 2011
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The streets of this island take on many cars
The fumes choke the air and the heat makes it worse
Cutting through the humidity dark-skinned children always laugh
The Spanish voices, as they sit out on their porches
Tell stories of old rebellion and many loves
Hearing what they have to say while munching on empanadillas
We are all connected in a special way
Like one twin to another
The language of the Puerto Ricans is unique
As its soft voice fills the air with music
The beat of the tall bongos and the strumming of a guitar
Move the dancers at a steady rhythm
The sweet scratching of the guicharo
Creates the strong and incredible sound of who we are
The burning city of Mayaguez will always have my heart.

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