Men live such lies.
They march and rave,
Warring backward, spewing hate.
(It'd have been easier to witness,
But for the slaughter of humankind.)

Do we not stand for anything?
Have we such hate?
A rage of spangle-toothed graves;
(Our humanity's winnings,
In pain's pragmatic deliverance.)

Isn't it time for us to be heard.
Have we not the will to be free;
For now we are slaves to apathy.
(March forward with lips wet of hope
And legs heartened by liberty.)