Father of freedom, but we’re asleep in the revolution,
sold the country to the whites,
while browns are fighting for freedom.
A living god in his own hell;
hailed by few, pleaded by many.
Sprinkled ash of their bodies,
sprinkled their blood,
he who claims to have the victory,
fails to stop the bleeding of his own soul.
Now he’s safe in the hands of his crafter.
Hello General, say hi to satan for me.

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