Black ships on white shores,
They've gotta take a soul, and it might be yours.
You don't know where to look or what to fight,
These things you're running from, they've stolen your sight.
They took your voice too, now you can't speak,
You're easy to control, they've left you so weak.
You must take back your tongue and take back your eyes,
Because without them, the revolution dies.
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