You voiced a protest at a time
The country was a slave to alien
You took up your inborn weapon, a pen
That grew fat with time
Tasted with flavour hungry people
Silently instilled a waking call
Bravely for a mission to move on
Their lost glory to get back
As a gust of fresh wind
Flew your message everywhere
That washed the cloudy spirits
From the youths dropped down in plenty
*******
Now free we are, so our country
Routine is our life, a heavy
industry
We think less, exhibit more
vainly
That are not our own, a borrowed robe
Spared a day for you, not of respect
But to make merry with decorations
Not addicted the youths to your art
Without a single fan are you
Blessed are filmstars and a very few
A bearded past to them you are
Our ignorance that you are ignored
God spare us! We are satans
Of your creative kingdom
But your glory will never fade
Not after our flesh burns into ashes...
