I stepped footsteps on the ground,
Combing the sharp bucket that decorate my earth path
Every now and then the dirty dirt of the street hit the pale skin of my face
With the warm sun burning my troubles ...
Along the way, I'm greeted with hypocrisy
My steps are in tune with the betrayals they offer
I whimpered, but no longer cared about
I cried, but no longer notice ..
Even the screams that almost cut my vocal cords, no longer heard by them
I ... who he says are siblings with them
But my pain is the entertainment for their arrogance ..
I ... he said part of them
But my wishes were dashed by their selfishness.
Is this my independence?
Is this my country?
The land that is said to be a fragment of heaven, but they break the wings of its angel.
The country that is prosperous, but they do not care about each other.
I'm silent ...
Trying to enjoy every pain they offer.
I can not fight
Even just say no.
It's too crushed the wings of the angel's heaven they destroy ...
It's too deep in that pain they put ...
Then, again they say softly seductive ...
"" We are brothers ""
"" You are part of us ""
Pathetic....
They treat their "" siblings "more abjectly than the rubbish they throw away.
This is my country ...
A fragment of heaven that offers only anguish and tears. "
