All the power in one hand  
The hand not of God but of a man, a fellow man  
ultimate power is their aim    
Rootless they are , destroy all in the way  to get their went

Freedom of speech, freedom of press, freedom of assemble  
All right and freedom in smokes, there are bugs that are crashed under they feet    
the people have no say but to sit and suffer
                                                                                                                                        
They rule with an iron fist      
holding on to power with all they have  
whatever the cost, even of blood
  if raised up against, they **** they torcher  
                                                                                                                      
Fear and persecution is their ultimate instrument  
the populations dare not speak  
for fear of death and endless  pain  
"rat and cockroaches" are the people under their feet    
                                                                                                                                    
There is job is corruption, there are married to corruption  
Rat they are to them in blackness of knowledge  and hiding in holes
taking all their can and giving noting back .
                                                                                                                                                                                                          
Though the sun going up and down                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    Revolutionary cloud hang in the sky ready to let down it rain  
the people shall rise to rebel to be suppressed no more.

I see my countryman still holding on to the pest          
we look to blame of the jar full of gold which fell out of our hand            
on the pest, on the men how came from the horizon                  
the men how opened our eyes                                        
but not without the down hills, deep valleys and the dark part of them

We hold on to the things which drive us into the ground'            
for we do not peck the from the shining ground but  we still look to blame          
whiles the wind of time blows which is more parlous than gold      
whiles the wind blows and carry’s away the gold  
                                                                                                                
A hunter enticing his whit bat have our country men enticed us whit sweet  words                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               and then stave us in the back  7x7x7 and  besieged us in poverty
Putting us in sinking  sand whit noting to hold on to.  
                                                                                                                          
To the further we must look and loss the burden which we hold on to.  
Moving from the past is inevitable if we went to be on the other side where the sun is    
reaching for the thing which are in front and living the thing which are in behind .

The tempter   tempting me with temptations  
My weak flash willth  to give heed  
but my willing spirit says,  test not
M y body grow worry and tired
I went to fall and let go
but my willing spirit says move on

My body screams pain and pain and all pain  
My body says let go soldier  
but my willing spirit says pain is weakness living the body

My feet and arms grow worry from work  
My weak flash says it alright to stop  
But I can’t                                            
My willing sprit will not let me
for the task is not finished

My body says rest and sleep  
enjoy and consent not thy duties  
But my eyes close not  foe sleep or rest  
For the willing in me says to me  
the  duty is not complete  
nor the journey  ended
  
All roads closed, all light out
I find not the way before my eyes  
But  my willing spirit  sayth  
there lays the way  
                                                                                                                                                        
For it is not the presences of a weak flesh  
that will lead to failure  
but rather the absences of a willing spirit