You can't keep me under.
You can't hide your blunder.
My roar is a deadly thunder.
Now you can control them,
But me you can't condemn.
My Soul is a precious gem.
'Now we'll just cut our wrists
Like cheap coupons and say
That Death was on sale today.'
I'm not your slave.
I'm a human, not a knave.
You have no right to tell me to behave.
We will rise up to be free.
Don't worry, sit back, you'll see.
This is what we want, what we'll be.
Fight, Fight, Fight!
Fight, Fight!
Fight!
(6/6/2008)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem