Looking at me, you see a pure, young soul. But look inside me, you sweet summer child.
Inside me are so many people I am Che Guevara with the lance of poetry I am Vladimir Lenin with the shield of quick wit I am Petőfi Sándor with the armor of ambition I am Mahatma Gandhi with the horse of music I am Fidel Castro with the arms of an endless mind I am Spartacus with the flames of unending hope But I am The Uncharismatic Man with the burdens The burdens of a tired arm The burdens of a twisted tongue The burdens of clipped wings The burdens of a deaf ear The burdens of numb thoughts The burdens of a dying sun I've risen up and gone down just as quick My rebellion was for naught this time I've grown exhausted from the fights But I'll never put down my arms. I'll never cease the struggle. This war never ends. So fight with me, brother. Fight yourself, goodfellow. Defeat the oppression, comrade. And never give up... Not until I give you the call to surrender.