the sky is burning,but its flames are ours,
they reach up past,
the distant stars,
we are venus,
they play mars,
we toss roses,
they spew tar,
but we bear witness,
as we clench our fists,
marching helpless,
despite the risk,
of bloodied limbs,
and lasting scars,
as the city's burning,
but its flames are ours,
and we chant our slogans,
with a thousands' roar,
like our fathers,
who came before,
and now they're swigining,
making old men cry,
as another child,
falls to the ground to die,
but for each like her,
that the world has seen,
there are dozens more,
behind evin,
and so we must be brave,
for the end is far,
as this longing burns,
and its flame is ours.
