A man will die, but not his ideas. You may press revolvers against their mouths Yet their voices still echo through your Black Maria. Loud are your bombs and loud is your Propaganda But they still sing "Freedom" in a louder Rosalía. Where are you off to? You’ve got no place to confine Their bleeding limbs and broken skulls Empty stomachs, faces dull Will not halt but haunt, you adults How long do you think you can hide? The clock of fear has long stopped ticking. It is now time to rise up and above, What is it, you ask, they demand? Accountability, transparency and reprimand. To count the coins hidden beneath your robes, Brutality and abuse of command Your display of blind obedience Masquerades as Innocence Yet the mirror on your wall Tells a different story, A tale of unjust power and tarnished glory A tale of screaming children and their plea It is not the greed for more! It is the bare minimum we demand!