While Rome burns,
The Movement rolls on,
The high water of disillusion
May be the word to every highways in our minds,
The disappointment of failures be the sore wound of the moment,
We, who are beaten down to the very last man,
We, the last vanguard in the bigger war against evil,
The palaces of the corrupt resonate with their victories now,
All this the anger that makes us clench our fists ever tighter,
To those who’s life’s just beginning.
To those who have nothing more to lose.

Do we defer our dreams for the strangling vines of cynicism?
Do we throw in towel to gain the empty prizes of the winning side?
We who were deemed naive in our hopes and our optimism,
Heroes may pass in the realms of mortality,
But the dream of a unity for has never died,
The undying fire passed on and on into the blackness of night,
Snuff it out they may, but here is to the
slight rumble of the current underneath,
For it is now just a matter of time....