from more broken dreams and hollow words,
marching one, two, three with a bravery
born from of a grievous cupidity
colonial fears the hands of a state
creates a river of tears beyond their years
and through it all, some learned nothing at all
before the fall we knew it all, they say,
like water flows blind and washes the slate
and maybe one day it will be their fate
to see what comes of the money they take