"Multitude of Soles"
A big giant gong appears in the square
With a poised rugged look
Like a blood-thirsty armoured tank.
The gong began to beat itself,
Soon feet began to gather
Quickly they turned into a marching army.
The din of their liberation cry
Was heard far and wide
Drowning every sense of serenity left.
The young and old,
The heroes past and heroes now,
Rage and fate were all mingle together as one.
The giant gong lamented of a raging evil from the North,
Sitting on a lofty chair with a rich white caftan
Wearing dark googles of bigotry and nepotism.
"The only way to this golden horizon
Spreading before our eyes
Is a revolution, freedom to be"
"For the night won't be long
And our battles will soon be worn"
These were his exact words,
They began as whispers to our soul
But now they are the propelling force behind this multitude of soles.
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