Rise, my sisters, rise

For the waking glory of the skies

Carries the ancient goddess

of dawn to your windows.

Awake and rise

And meet one another.

Greet with the genuine

Kiss of women power.

Gather the grains of rights

From the fields of our mothers.

no, We must no longer delay,

We shall take away

What was created by

The singing birds

Who call for us.

Sweet is the shade

of our demanding raid

And sweet is the display

of poetic lungs

Who shine and parade.

don’t underestimate or

speak the wrong way.

No.

It is not us who will

Wither and fade,

But the beards of our kings

Who will fall to extinct.

The kingdom of stars

Shall be ours,

And your wishes for more power

Have become nothing but

tormented curse beyond

Your very last hour.

So allow the riot of blame

amongst the innocence to the

Far-fetched shame;

Those who will always

Stay the same.

Those who frame their game,

And wear satan as there last name.

leaving us, yes, us, women,

to rust with the chains.

but i say,

We will always exclaim:

WOMEN

WILL

NEVER

BE TAMED.

-Arizona