A staccato of gun fire
Four lifeless bodies lay sprawled on the ground,
In a pool of their own blood
'A wanton of wanted life'

How many more deaths from the hit squad?
How many more souls to perish from the Massacre?
How long will it take our motherland,
To breathe the fresh air of freedom
From the petrifying smell

We lads wail everyday
In order to end the Violent we face everyday.
You threw away...