I drew a fine line, picket lines of heavy strikes
Balaclavas in black of young minds rebelling times
Writing history on the grounds on which we march
A thousand feet walking a story yet to be told
Graduating from war to peace, we gradually hold
A fictional prose of Luther’s own
Martin’s ghost aging all our decisions
Restless and young it’s a worldwide collaboration
Changing the scene the establishments gotta change
Politically swayed left wing ain’t the same.



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