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 I am not he, nor master, nor lord 
No crown to wear, no cross to bear in stations 
I am not he, nor shall be, warlord of nations 
These heroes have run before me, now dead upon the flesh piles, see? 
Waiting for their promised resurrection, there is none 
Nothing but the marker, crown or cross 
In stone upon these graves 
Promise of the ribbon was all it took 
Where only the strap would leave it's mark upon these slaves 
What flag to thrust into this flesh, rag, bandage, 
Mop in their flowing death 
Taken aside, they were pointed a way, for god, queen and country 
Now in silence they lie 
They ran before these masters, children of sorrow 
As slaves to that trilogy they had no future 
They believed in democracy, freedom of speech 
Yet dead on the flesh piles I hear no breath 
I hear no hope, no whisper of faith 
From those who have died for some others' privilege 
Out from your palaces, princes and queens 
Out from your churches, you clergy, you christs 
I'll neither live nor die for your dreams 
I'll make no subscription to your paradise 
            
 
HATA BİLDİR
 
 
		
        
        
        
         
         
         
         
        
        
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