The sun is setting on the west,
In vain, the young try to protest,
But fate struck hard where they did lack
It’s just too late for fighting back.
The deed is done.
The bad have won.
And we have nothing but to wait
Until the gods become irate.
For we are in the underground
Down where we will ne’er be found,
Creating beauty from your scraps,
Waiting for the time to lapse,
And the day, which soon will come,
When the rich will be the scum.
Then, we’ll rule the whole expanse
And avenge the lives of the Dead Peasants!
