This control it stopped for friendship,
and your own offensive exchanges were long past gone.
All of us divided in this meandering victory.
Your exile and their word is the concept of my revolution.
Small worlds, you will be moving toward the sea
more now than in the past two hundred years.
And now as you're engulfed by unquenched fire,
this wild threat occurred for kings of times.
And underwater had its dark side too,
They did not take the oath too seriously.
For we, we are a mixture of fact and legend.
When we returned to our fallow farms
our veterans were sent out to the east.
The owners of the land are laborers,
And we are left out in the slums.
You are dead and but you are still my law.
This institution is a part of life.
Will you set me free? Can I go home?
I use your sword as well as your saw.
What was exchanged for these cold words of mine?
Just wine or cordial greetings must be poured.
The masses will accept these words of yours.
And differences will deftly be ignored.
