Deep incisions mar soft cheeks As the flood of hot sour tears flows Naked poor souls die Each passing seconds of breath Who will hear the cry of the voiceless The cry of silent dying destinies Who will hear the cry of the voiceless The age-long groping for liberation Wake up! Wake up!
See weeping spirits strucked by hope terminating pains See the fear ridden culture of suffering and smiling Are you now sagging your once celebrated raised shoulders? Who art bewitched you? What has become of your pride of giants and giant of pride? Sixty doesn't look good on you! Wake up! Wake up!