The sky is crying,
The world is dying,
It's a beautiful revolution
With all the instruments of execution.
Take your last breath,
As you prepare for your death.
What you did was never wrong,
You just didn't play along.
You'll never be forgotten.
As they wash the blood-stained cotton,
They feel sorry for your wife,
They know she's reaching for a knife.
Beware it never rusts,
As one's eyes, they must adjust,
To the thrill of execution.
It's a beautiful revolution.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
it is amazing poem.it is typical 'Beautiful 'Revolution :) Well done