Our Revolution do they suppress with the simple tool of hunger
To us, their understanding of patriotism is an embarrassing blunder
In our misery daily do we wallow
Their web of lies the majority so often swallow;
Even the blind could see the emptiness at the end of their tenure
Politics to them is now a profitable venture
A trade that only the ordained do pride
The competence in an individual is now a source of spite and derision;
Our Revolution seems so close, yet so far
Our future so bleak like a distant star
Our suffering is a good music in their ears as we to them are slaves
Their homes are protected by dogs while our villages are covered with graves;
In the name of many things, we pick up arms to fight each other
While in their comforts, they raise their glasses to have a cheer with each other
For how long are we to fall prey to their charms?
For how long to the tune of their drumbeats do we dance with our firearms?
Our Revolution to so many is now a burden
Yet the generation of poverty they created worsens
Their connection to power makes them feel invisible
For whatever reason, they seem to think we would forever be divisible;
The train of Revolution is on the move but it is not trendy
Its seats are altogether empty
The majority are outside pilling stones on its track
Because being stagnant to them is a knack;
The price of freedom they say is free
Yet our lives they hold perpetually as a fee
Where lays our Rights and Justice that we so often fought for like Bruins?
For our Revolution is long dead and in ruins.