Last words of confidence still penetrate the cannonthunder, so many daring
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dreams will fall, the vision of a better world dies in the bombingrain. No
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time to say farewell, the world shall hear about their fight. Betrayed by
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spineless servants, conspiracies - so many heroes shot from behind. No
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thoughts of giving in, no stampede - no more negotiating. This desesperate
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fight will set a sing - they died with the gun in their hands. Time will
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avenge one day. The sky is colored red by the martyr's blood, the same sky
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under which. The victors marching in again, bringing back the slavery, the
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oldest order, under rule again - it's been too early, but they shall rise
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again. If it all came down to me, would I shed my blood for what I lived
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for? Would I clench my fist until the last breath?
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-----------------
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The Martyrs' Blood
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Heaven Shall Burn |