The Bird Of Joy
The reflection of sunshine, peace, prism made of healthy flesh
The nightfall of drying leaves
The unnamed feeling drives the pain away.
The sorrow, wild fire in chests of men
Secrets carved in these words I say
Blood in veins rushing hard.
The boiling blood spitting adrenaline, above cold feets that wait to run
The battle cry that shakes the wild earth
Cruelty of tyrants on human skin
Inhumane battery has now stopped running.
It has come,
Yes it has come, the bird of joy yet to fly over graves now
The soulless bodies of tyrant now rotten