Strike - 2011/02/10

Swinging in the wind
Smell of rotten flesh
Aristocrats corralled
Their blood runs fresh
Laid aside my loud sign
Grabbed a makeshift gun
Marching for the palace
Executed every last one

Peace is still our dream
Even as blood is spilled
Dictators just gotta die
For our freedom to build
We came asking for change
Rebuked with copious shit
So here is our declaration
In your blood its now writ

We gathered if only to exist
Asserting a right to a voice
In terms of death or freedom
Dead pharaoh made his choice
Fuck him and all his friends
If you fight to try and deny
Our claim on human free will
Tolerance is in short supply

Now is the time
To shed our grace
Either get on board
Or leave this place
Economics be damned
Slavery shall perish
A chance to make fate
Is all that we cherish

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