They gave us blood and hate Then wondered why we all are rebels
In the Land of Saints each man raised is called a rebel

I come from the land of bloody crackdowns
where silhoettes of life rush to the playgrounds
[“you sit your ass down, and don’t make a sound
take off that Pheran, you motherfuckin’ clown”] – Words said by Indian Forces durin’ a crackdown.

whose son is he? whispers ask
doesn’t matter really ’cause it ain’t the last
faint hearts of men beat a little slow
doesn’t matter when there’s a gun down your throat

you watch and tremble at the face of struggle
can’t understand – the heart of a rebel
the eyes of a man who is ready to die
prayers of a mother are held in her cry
...