Rivers are dried
Fed up of the blood
Which coagulates the shores
And leaves a trail
Spots of blood
People carry to towns
Then the cities
Their hands spotted with blood
Their minds clogged with blood
Their clothes stained with blood
Their money stained with blood
Then they taste blood
Freedom
Little children cry in hovels
Beggars turn mad
Make them taste this blood
Let it stain their hands
They can open blood banks
Become wealthy
Eradication of poverty.
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