Tantamount Poem by Pedro Cescon

Even now I still can see, your vows to see us well,
As if you were to see who gets, the heaven and the hell,
Fighting ones just much like you, just images in mirror,
But every time you blood your hands, you see it bit less clearer,

Lacking discipline to the rights and lights poured in your mould,
And blaming it on rage, furious heatwave, though was so cold,

Always claiming to be true, to be brave, to be filled with wisdom,
Contradicting your own words with the fire as your tool of freedom,
Deeming violence as the key, to be free, to be free,
Deeming violence as the key, to be free, to be free,
Deeming violence as the key, to be free, is tantamount

I can dream of blades of grass, under the morning rain,
But blades are made of hot iron and steel, and sky is raining pain,
Cause all them books of peace and love, they wouldn't agree at all,
And everyone is righteous and sure, so that no one is to fall,

And all our sins resume to live our lives at open,
From all that we can't build, we have the tears for token,

Always claiming to be true, to be brave, to be filled with wisdom,
Contradicting your own words with the fire as your tool of freedom,
Deeming violence as the key, to be free, to be free,
Deeming violence as the key, to be free, to be free,
Deeming violence as the key, to be free, is tantamount

It is for what you built that you want to die,
But to say its freedom is just one more lie,
It is for what you built that you want to die,

Always claiming to be true, to be brave, to be filled with wisdom,
Contradicting your own words with the fire as your tool of freedom,
Deeming violence as the key, to be free, to be free,
Deeming violence as the key, to be free, to be free,
Deeming violence as the key, to be free, is tantamount

Is for what you built that you want to die,
But to say it's freedom is just one more lie,
Is for what you built that you want to die,
But to say its freedom is just one more lie