Sounds of thunder and war,
A chant for freedom or gore,
The chance for a revolution,
A time for retribution.

But when the smoke clears,
And trust me it will,
The chance to breathe will be stilled.
For who are we fighting, but those before us?

Ones that protected us,
Ones that restricted us,
Ones that love us yet never seemed to let go of us.

Ones that we call our family.
Our countrymen.
Our people.
Yet still, we rebel.

Against our teachers.
Against the higher ups.
Against the system.

For freedom. For justice.
For the right to make a choice.
For democracy. For our lives.
For a social renaissance.

With our friends. With their help.
With the ones who feel oppressed.
With foreign aid, with combined power.

We overthrow the government.
The head of family.
The bosses, CEOs and stakeholders.
Waving flags that carry our hope.

And when dawn rises upon this darken wasteland,
We shall begin to realise
That the next generation
Will follow in our footsteps.

So be the flag that rises,
It'd be the flag that falls.
For what comes up must always come down.
And rebellions rises and falls.