Oh! knight of the pen
Our country is vertiginous
Running down from the ben
To the lustrous martyrdom,
Who will cure our land?
Our glittering goal is dancing to tune of death.
What will be of our future?
When the knights are deprived of their freedom
Of speech and opinions.
And watch the country dancing to the drum of doom.
What will cure our leprosy?
Our mic sound sonorously sycophancy.
To our able corrupted adversary
Who changed their clothes to deceive us from the truthful path
And made us neglect our pledge to the job to seek after the odd
We become decorated caged Dogs instead of watch dog.
Our barkings worst our leprosy.
Our pure book that reflected our pure heart
Now protected the mud of knaveries.
We recorded the mendacious and burn the truth
Yet the masses respected our dictum
They sings praises to us when we lied to them; they knew nothing about truth.
Where are our mettlesome heroes?
Their stories can't be found in repository
Ev'n the brave ones among us are threatened with death
Their mouths are shut and they're terminated
Who is ready to catch bull by it's horn?
But Now is the time! when the true knights are breed
From the tender age for the ultimate war
Their pen's bleeding the truth
And their book's projecting the justice
Who shall give them the mic to pronounce the righteousness?
Oh! young knights of the pen, gather your armamentarium
And nurse the leprosy of our dear country
Clean our leprosy in river Jordan
Like the Syrian's captain
Take with you the boldness to face the faceless fear
Grind on the truth that you have known in the honest room
And save the living dead country from doom.
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