Fallen truth

In the stormy days, they failed to see.
How we were smitten by lashes on our tender back.
In those day when we served the land in tears and fears.
In pain and anguish, we poured our feisty sweat.
In our haven, we shivered like cockerels badly beaten by rain.

Our defenders have made us their chariots of war, marching us to the dreaded great enslaver.
We wept all days for they have turned
our cries to their happy time.
They have paraded us miscreants and thieves.
Our defenders have slashed the throat of our faithful men,
To carve the truth for themselves.
For them, the pleasure comes from the murderers in Khaki.

Before this storm, we have unwound in our democratic seat.
But for us now come a lord of all thoughts,
who proclaims to us his victory
over death.
He does not worth his salt.
For he has sneered our gods
And stirred our collective will for vengeance.
On our land now,
souls are spread to senerade our lord.
For our blood rains to water the parched soil,
Before we plant the slain body for our lord's victory.

O ye sleeping fathers, save us now!
For the land has refused to help.
Our broken backs cannot bear the lashes again.
Our sages are afraid of death,
They keep the truth of OPELE from him
And desire to reign with him

Who will fight for us?
Who will save us from the clutch of our lord?
For he knows our thoughts.
Our wealth and virgins
He took for no reasons,
And had had celebration in defiance
Of our cry for severance.