We are free, but we are chained
We are misguided, but we are sane
They render us powerless, but we will fight
They attempt to blind us, but we have sight

We have voices, but we can’t be heard
We communicate, but we use no words
They scream at us, but are heard not
They point guns at us, but can be fought

We have no bullets, but we can kill
We take no lives, but they will
They fight with weapons, but we fight with peace
They create blockades, but we won’t cease

They can’t stop us from what is written in there laws
They can’t stop us from singing our songs
They can’t stop us from revolutionizing without inflicting pain
So they fire their guns until their ammo is drained

But now, who labors to create their guns?
Not us, we are dead. Are song is sung
Who will listen to there tirades when they yell?
Not us we are gone, but far from hell

We cannot fight, but our legacy will
We fire away, but we are graves on a hill
They struggle, but chaos will rise
They keep fighting, but there enemies have died

So we have won. Us, the soldiers of words
We are deceased, but our voices are heard
All we did was lift our pencils and write away
Between the eyes they have shot us, but on our feet we stay