No future is able to tell
why the rulers always fail
Old Men pray silently
No Human thinks your war is wise
Revolution
Only the good mother trembles
because all her being scents mischief
and outside you can hear Voices talk
lost seems the old blessing
It's too late
Far too late
to give you the power
to defend oneself again
to confront the fear
to enslave your enemy
Those are the grapes of your
wrath
and will one human raise his hand
to defend himself, to live?
Will someone scream at the top of their lungs
before they will rob him of his freedom too?