Bodies lying here and there,
torn clothes everywhere,
Some little girls crying near the bay,
Some little girls hiding behind the hay,
It's the month of May,and
I still remember this day,
When I refused to use my stength,
Gave up, laid down,
Could no longer fly high,
I was forced to drop on the ground,
Just because some hands pulled me down,
And swept me across the room
To fulfill their needs,
When I come to think about it now,
I should have stomped their throats,
When I had the chance,
I should have fought,maybe
I could have saved,
Others and every one,
If only I roared.