When the troops have abandoned the streets,
When the tanks no more rumble their song,
When all the blood’s been washed fast away,
Who, then, shall we fear before they take wing?
Why are all the streets so deadly quiet?
Why are children not dancing in reverie?
Why are graves still bathed in ceremony?
Who shall they fear before freedom’s ring?
Fools! What fools they be!
The tree of freedom is limbless.
Its harvest butchered
By tyrants and thieves.
The children are listless of the long swig in death
As the Shepard slices open his silver grin
And summons them into the valley,
Where they begin to stamp,
Where they begin to chant,
Where they writhe in dance,
And their garments they rend
To become warriors.
Copyright © 2006 mrp