singer / songwriter
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Alben

Produced by El Poncho Pescadero
Recorded by Hector Casanova at Estudio CAS, Catemaco, Veracruz, Mexico
and by Mr. Kai at Geldorp Mansion, Cologne, Germany.
Additional recording by José Angel Taxilaga Morteo at Arcca Records, Catemaco
and by Salossi at Burgblick Studios, Ruppichteroth, Germany.
Cover photo by Mr. Kai
Album design by Nora van Rijn

All songs written by Kai Streier
© 2013 Rose of a Defensive Colour Music

Performed by Mr. Kai and Mariachi “Gala Juvenil” de Catemaco:
Leonardo Martínez Rodríguez – trumpet, background vocal
Sergio Antonio Santos Paxtlán – vihuela, nylon string guitar, background vocal
Leonardo Martínez Cágal – violin, background vocal
Isidro Martínez Cágal – guitarron

Special guests:
Gonzalo “Chalo” Barrientos
Hector Casanova
Sascha “Salossi” Loss

Released July 2013

veracruz (2013)

01 AMERICAN ROAD TRIP
02 ANCIENT CROSS
03 THE NEIGHBOUR
04 DUST AND MISERY
05 VERACRUZ
06 THINGS AIN’T GETTING BETTER
07 SALT UPON OUR SKIN
08 AMPHIBIOUS SYMPHONY
09 COCKROACHES EVERYWHERE
10 BLACK HILL
11 SUNDAY IN BELGIUM

02 ANCIENT CROSS

There’s an ancient cross
In the Mexican night
The stars are twinkling
And the moon is bright
What else could you ask for?
Is there something missing?
Well, the dogs are barking
And sure, a snake is hissing

The air is filled
With Indian ghosts
Where nothing but stone
And cactus grows
Where vultures circle
And the eagle calls
Every sound is echoed
By the canyon walls

The Sea of Cortez
Is peaceful and still
Montezuma lies bleeding
On the top of the hill
Out here in the desert
Things are not what they seem
You may be dreaming a Lower
California dream

The air is filled
With Indian spirit
Where spring breakers go
To take their mind to the limit
Where shadows are drowned
In rivers of sand
And the eternal laws
Of reality expand

Help me!
Can you hear me now?
Help me!
Can you hear me now?
Help me!

There’s an ancient cross
That was once painted white
Outside the old mission
In the Mexican night
A star’s coming down
As I’m rocking my chair
Weird to imagine it’s gone
When it’s always been there

The air is filled
With Indian souls
Stupidity and greed
Keep taking their toll
Where people are killed
For a fistful of crack
And everything that dies
Will never come back