Tears from the mountains

You dug an ocean of belief within our drunken souls and eyes
Where we were convinced to see the salty water as blood of our men,
The salty sweat of farmers who were once called out on the fields
Against the great fucking clatter of gunfire by our unsung father Irabot.
Now when we open our eyes when we stage the play of your untold fable
Which you never sang in front of us, which you never asked us to listen to
You are gone but we know you have won, you have won inside us
You have won the tear of silence, the tear of the mountains
You have won the bullet through your chest, through your head
And you will never fade because you were never a fake
Thousands of roads may come to drag us
To make us crawl against the ground
Which they painted with the scar of their boots
But we will smell your blood on the ground
We will raise our head against the barrel against the rifles
You may lay silent underneath this earth
You may burn to ashes and wash away by the wind
But the tears from the mountains
Can neither be blown away by the wind
Nor can it be washed by the smoking guns
And we will swim in it to reach you to follow you
A thousand poems in your name
A thousand songs for your thoughts
A thousand of us for the land you loved will be living
To cry the spirit of a new crimson sky

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