Last words of confidence still penetrate the cannonthunder, so many daring 

dreams will fall, the vision of a better world dies in the bombingrain. No 

time to say farewell, the world shall hear about their fight. Betrayed by 

spineless servants, conspiracies - so many heroes shot from behind. No 

thoughts of giving in, no stampede - no more negotiating. This desesperate 

fight will set a sing - they died with the gun in their hands. Time will 

avenge one day. The sky is colored red by the martyr's blood, the same sky 

under which. The victors marching in again, bringing back the slavery, the 

oldest order, under rule again - it's been too early, but they shall rise 

again. If it all came down to me, would I shed my blood for what I lived 

for? Would I clench my fist until the last breath?