I've been waiting for this war to be over, since before the first battle began We are haunted by weaponized illusions, that keep interrupting our plan If we create a way to run away from power games, masquerades And clashing blades, then our enemies will win before we fight I do not know how to wake up from this nightmare So until then I will try to make things right Sometimes it will feel like pushing boulders, up relatively vertical hills Playing chess against kings and their soldiers When our comrades are not ready to help First they'll call our self-defense violence Then they'll call their violence the law They say their tridents are made out of kindness But those words are made of poisonous straw When the next revolution is over, we will celebrate together Sharing jugs of wine, in a utopian neighborhood And then remember all of those good old times All of those good old crimes Like throwing rocks at cops and shops for fun Because we could and the greater good