In the eve of the dying sun.
So much loss.
So much heartbreak.
The people band together.
It’s a fickle little thing,
but things aren’t the way they used to.
Dusk is coming.
There is something I need to say.
Even if it isn’t right.
The government is full of,
reptiles in a airplane.
They need to take flight.
Our hands are clean, and worn.
You cannot stop this war.
We march, and crawl.
You cannot stop us all.
I remember the days,
in which we were free.
That was a long time ago.
I’ve trecked through terrorism,
and economic collapse,
and I haven’t even reached thirty.
It’s not that we’re lazy,
it’s not that we are fat.
It’s all the naivety,
and the education that we lack.
But when you look out the window,
of your million dollar home.
We will be waiting.
We will be aching.
There is something,
that I’m dying to say.
Even if I am wrong.
It’s time to get the guillotines out,
and give back what was wrought.
Our hands are clean, and worn.
You cannot stop this war.
We march, and crawl.
You cannot stop us all.
