I have a pain so mysterious that I can not name it;

I try to ignore it, but I’m forced to claim it.

Seeing the hearts of my people, crushed down to ground

Left my mind full of questions:

Is it such a crime to fight for your right?

I still don’t get it; such a confusion!

 

Yet in my home,

 Up is down; Left is right.

 In my home, there is too much fright.

 Is it such a crime, to explain my obstacle

To shout out loud and tell my struggle?

 

There are bloody orphans everywhere.

 But with all of the war,

There’s no one left to care.

Wrong is right, up is down—

There is nothing left in my town.

 

Once a beautiful land,

Now no longer grand;

Not many know what they once had.

Blood of innocents, bleeding by blade,

Innocents slaughtered—

Slaughtered like Sheep.

 

The Earth swallowed all my hopes and dreams,

And stared at me, couldn’t hear my screams.

For my right, I’m still fighting.

Is it such a crime; why am I suffering?

 

Tears of those with no voice—

Tears of those whipped and silenced:

Signs of oppression,

Causing such depression.

Protesting for our right,

Is causing us to fight.

 

Yet, no sun is coming out.

Darkness and a storm cloud

Cover my face with a black shroud.

No one hears me crying.

Who can feel my suffering?

Is it such a crime to fight for your right?

Is it such a crime to fight for your right?