Our chosen sword

It is said that time is limitless but our long day finally surrendered.

Saturdays will always come, but blooms wither differently

Sons and daughters, we fought differently:

Some held swords, wires and others a tip of a pen

We scribbled differently and sang in different tones

But our strains, our stanzas, our whacks were never different

We mated in a proposition.

And in our palms is the sprig.

Sons and daughters, it is said that time is immortal but our bit is to oar inland;

Our zoo, today, is not to tear, tirade or trash but to strive and work and pray,
that all may live in unity, freedom and peace each day.
Our hands and hearts tied to our backs, towards the common good.
Sons and daughters, let’s swallow our fat; pledge our firm allegiance and renew our promise;
Fight for our warrant, irrespective of our diverse people and thoughts.


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