Green, land
Owners
Buried, ridden
People, common people.
En masse
Fighting against Them
And They are colored, with Red
Taken
Guns, shells and cartridges.
Protests, false fragile forgotten protests
While we sleep with our
Window curtains raised

Crimson robes everywhere,
Monks
Bleeding in their color
Turning Red
The whole place
Tanks
Roads blocked
Big achievements
And we still sleep with our
Window curtain raised.

History repeats itself,
They are colored!