Hear me my lover,
Hear me my mother,
Hear me my brother,
Hear thy beloved scream.
The hero of the city in heaven,
Has met with the tragic seven.
And his great honours,
Has been put to shame,
But his soul remains unchained.
For his body may have failed,
But his mind is still the same.
His goal may be dead,
But his soul is still alive.
Hear thy son cry,oh my mother.
For this hero of mine has fallen.
He may have died a tragic death,
But he was met with an heroic end.
No matter what has been done to his body,
As no number of stitches can heal that wound,
But you hear me my brother,
He died a hero as he had
Lived his life as a communist.
Let his sacrifice not go in vain,
Let his soul not grieve in vain,
Let him be honoured among men,
And his death be known among them.
His head was held high,
As he died without a cry.
His eyes shone bright,
As death came along.
The ideals that have been graved,
Did not come along.
It stayed alive,
Even when he died.
For a brain of a man can be killed,
But it's thoughts can only be thrilled.
The dream that he dreamt,
May never come to pass,
But when it does,my sire,
I am sure they shall last,
But alas he will not see,
This come to pass.
Every dreamer wants change,
For this broken system has no gain,
For this we are hunted,
For this we are killed,
We want peace,
But thou don't want it to last.
Hear me speak oh yeah traitor,
For these words shall come to pass,
When it does ye fool shall know it last,
For thou can't kill a dreamer,
Nor can thee kill his dream.
For there shall always be more of us,
And this shall come to pass.
The Dead Revolutionary