The souls of my comrades cried out with mine,
beneath white stones, line after line.
Our hard fought democracy was crumbling away.
Rivulets of blood encircled the earth once again.

Our voices were mingling with man's struggles above.
Souls no longer at rest, angry and torn.
How dare leaders make nothing of history and deaths,
fought with such blind obedience and now they mock.

The winds were changing around the world.
Each country had its' own hurricane of tormoil.
I could hear the voices from long ago,
surfacing and shouting, it's tome to go.

This would be a collective march,
from us and those living above.
We would shout together against tyrannical rule.
And die not from obedience, but that we should.

The winds were changing around the world
Each country had it's hurricane of turmoil.
I could hear the voices from long ago,
surfacing and shouting, its time to go.

I doubted a change could occur
Without more blood spilling
Seeping below.