With The Candle In Our Hands We Lite Hope

Kings like slaves
And blood-like red wine
A generation comes and goes,
Both great and mighty caged in ignorance
We watched our loved one taken like a sheep to slaughter before our very eye
We were deprived of our rights and like the deepest ocean our tears flow.

In the search for redemption, we drain
We were betrayed and hated each other for what we were made to believe.
Oh! How inferior and poor our mentality
Like a bell as early heard in the morning
We are awakening from slumber
When the question ”Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”

You can’t shut a generation forever
A child grows to fight for his right
Yes it may tarry
It’s better late than never
We have lost, with the candle in our hands we lite hope
But we are up to possess our possession
Home of the rising sun
Florishing with milk and honey.
That which was lost has been found
Alas we bid goodbye.

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