The stories of the braves and the bold
Written in time, written with blood
Written as my keen, written as my blood
I’m the legacy as the prophecy foretold.
Where are my countrymen
The blood of my ancestors?
Have they been misplaced and replaced
With a nation of bugs?
They rob us blind
They act like thugs.
Preying, cheating and material lust
They shoo me, boo me
Banish me from the cast
In the court of cowards
I’m held restricted,
They must.
I wipe my sweat and tear
With my bounds
My unquenchable contempt
Burns for the hounds.
I wonder, how long till
Will my countrymen return.
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