Sidhu Moose Wala

My thoughts I know that burn a hole

Through the pages of the time

And innocence can’t comprehend

The dying of the light

All escape to serenade

The preachers of the dawn

While you sit to wait and contemplate

The meaning of the songs

By singers long dead and gone

While their echoes are still heard

Asking you to question the people that sit in power

But you reject to accept the voices that you hear

And continue to live your life with fear

Escape . Get out . Jump. Pound. Strike. Ignite. Fight.

Fight , fight for the dying of the light.

Mighty poets and their noise

Have strung together words

For us to comprehend and let it burn away the herd

Flock of sheep, dead meat, anything without a brain

The real answer has always lied in the insane.

So join my hand as we kick off the carnival and raise our banners high to the sky

And smell the revolution in the air that will last for life

Tear gases are the food for thought

And love is life

And the burning signs the light

That will guide us through the night

So illustrate the common hate that we feel around

And burn it all, along with the pretending leaders, straight to the ground.

New light. New dawn. New songs. New crowns.

New thoughts. New dust. New chants. New sound.

Hear, hear that someone is around

That feels the same, the same unrest.

And is trying to do her/his best

To make a change

To stop the hate

Before the sun sets

Before it is too late.


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