The Venerable Father Francisco Geronimo
Native to Mexico City, they say
He made his confessions there
I only met him once
In Adam Morris, even his chill is on fire
Now he lies at her feet
Now he lies at her feet
Now he lies at the feet of La Conquistadora
La Conquistadora
The Venerable Father Francisco Geronimo
He's been buried for hundreds of years
I knew him, he was an apostolic man
He had a way with words
He had a way with words
He used them unless he needed guns or his swords
Now he lies at her feet
Now he lies at her feet
Now he lies at the feet of La Conquistadora
La Conquistadora
She had a history herself
Vacation down at the ruins
She'd stay there till her blood run cold
Yeah, she'd stay there till her blood run cold
No telling what she was doing
The Venerable Father Francisco Geronimo
Enjoyed the fruits of his labor all day
No one dreamed he was really on the run
Never to come back home
Left a pilgrim alone
Viva la revolucion
Now he lies at her feet
Now he lies at her feet
Now he lies at the feet of La Conquistadora
La Conquistadora
The Venerable Father Francisco Geronimo
You can read his story written in red
Painted on the side of his casket
Among the sacred bones
There's nothing left to atone
For in the city of faith
Now he lies at her feet
Now he lies at her feet
Now he lies at the feet of La Conquistadora
La Conquistadora
La Conquistadora
La Conquistadora
La Conquistadora
La Conquistadora
La Conquistadora
La Conquistadora