I walk down this lane
The narrow path of this lush dry land
Where our resources avail us not nor our destiny.
For every night we fight
And every morn we mourn
From the torment of the hands above,
Hammering our vision and barricading our success.
O Compatriots!
It is time
To live our time
For our armour of clamour is outworn.
Raise the sword of freedom
And cut loose this *******
That has enslaved us.
Jan 13, 2020
Jan 13, 2020 at 9:21 AM UTC
I walk down this lane
The narrow path of this lush dry land
Where our resources avail us not nor our destiny.
For every night we fight
And every morn we mourn
From the torment of the hands above,
Hammering our vision and barricading our success.
O Compatriots!
It is time
To live our time
For our armour of clamour is outworn.
Raise the sword of freedom
And cut loose this *******
That has enslaved us.
I'm from a beautiful country, with many resources but we understand not what to make use of it 'cause our government embezzled all our income forgetting the masses.
Stanza 2: we are fond of keeping silent over whats tormenting us but we fight with ourselves when night comes, blaming our destiny and cursing our ancestors, and when morning comes, when we meet with our friends we mourn over what we brooded over at night. That's the cycle we live in.
But the voice of the Revolutionist is never heard 'cause he's afraid of the aftermath of his revolution.